Specter Detectors 1,2,3
by Nylah
Summary: Danny, Sam and Tucker start their own ghost hunting agency. Ep.3: Rosemary's Diamond. They capture a ghost for a recently widowed woman. But then she comes to them with an unusual request... Future fic, no PP.
1. Episode 1: The broken mirror

A/N 1/24/2010: This first chapter has been reedited. I also added a prologue, which is basically an extended version of the prologue in my 'Oneshot Wonderland' collection (chapter 35, Introduction).

Summary: After having been away for years, Sam and Tucker return to Amity Park and their friend, determined to pick up where they left off, to renew their friendship and kick some serious ghost butt. Starting their own ghost hunting agency seems like the logical thing to do, and their first client is an old acquaintance. This is story about friendship and working together. About building your life and finding purpose. And it is a story about ghosts.

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom.

(Oh. I've had to clarify this before. Obviously, they're all over 21)

* * *

**SPECTER DETECTORS LTD**

**Prologue**

* * *

They were sitting on top of the ops center like they used to, quietly watching the sun set in the warm summer breeze. The town seemed peaceful from up there, not infested with crooks, criminals or ghosts. A police siren in the distance told them otherwise, but here, on the roof, it seemed like the streets and alleys down on the ground belonged to a different world. Up on the roof, the world seemed friendlier, without heartbreak or misunderstandings or hunters out for your blood, ghostly or otherwise. Up on the roof, time seemed to have stopped, and they could just be together in a comfortable silence they couldn't find anywhere else.

Of course they were never silent for long.

"So," Danny said, sitting cross legged on the metal plates that made up the roof and leaning forward to grab his glass of wine, "You're here to stay."

Sam nodded, sipping her glass while eying her best friend's lean figure, hardly hidden beneath the wide t-shirt he wore. The years of fighting had left their mark, and the goofy and clumsy teenager had grown into a confident young man with watchful eyes and quick reflexes. Aided by the wine, Sam found herself attracted to him once more, a feeling she had thought to be purged out of her system by leaving Amity Park four years ago.

She tore her eyes away from him, aware of the fact that Tucker was watching her with amused eyes, as well as the fact that Danny was completely oblivious to her as he was gloomily staring out over the town. She eyed the the half empty bottle that was standing next to him instead, shifting a little to make herself comfortable once more. The position she was in – laying on her side, leaning on her left elbow – used to be comfortable when she was a teenager, but was now quickly becoming more and more painful.

"Hey man," Tucker said, sitting with his back against the structure, and obviously not quite catching on on the mood Danny was in. "Can't let you have all the fun by yourself, you know. Only ghost hunting during breaks just doesn't cut it."

He swallowed the remainder of the wine in his glass in one large gulp, and reached for the bottle.

"You?" he asked Danny, holding the bottle close to Danny's glass, but he shook his head.

"Your loss," Tucker said, serving himself and then Sam, who held her glass close to his.

She nodded her head in the direction of Danny's glass.

"You've hardly touched yours," she said, "We're celebrating. Come on, Danny, I nicked this from my parents' wine cellar especially for this occasion."

"Alcohol and ghost fighting don't go together," Danny said tensely, remembering the one time he had drunk too much, "I don't think you'd want me starting to obliterate random things just for the heck of it."

Tucker grinned. "Do I hear experience here?"

Danny looked away. Sure, he was happy his friends were back, after having been away for years, going to New York (Sam) and UCLA (Tucker). They couldn't have been further apart, with him stuck in Amity Park Community College. But he felt a pang of resentment at them, for having managed to get away from the stress and the danger, even though their parents practically forced them to go. Hell, he himself had told them to go, he'd take care of business, he'd be perfectly alright on his own.

And he had been, sort of. After all, he was still alive. But the price had been high.

Tucker took his silence as a yes, and grinned some more, but Sam frowned, always having been more sensitive to Danny's moods than Tucker was.

"So," she said, "How's the job going? At the amusement park?"

Danny shrugged. "OK, I guess. I still have it."

Tucker blinked. "I thought you were working in that car parts store near Caspar High?"

"That was last month. Got fired. Again."

"Oh." Tucker averted his eyes, finally catching on to the fact that Danny was in a foul mood.

They drank in silence for a while, Tucker and Sam refilling their glasses, Danny only taking small sips from his. The sky turned orange, the buildings black, and Venus made it's appearance in the quickly darkening sky. On the other side of the building, the bright neon sign reading 'Fenton Works' flickered to life.

"You should start your own business," Sam said, "That way you don't have a boss to fire you when you run off to fight a ghost again."

"Yeah, right," Danny answered irritably, "Because you know, I have so many talents. I'm extremely good at star gazing, sleeping late, running off in the middle of something, and oh yes, I have a mean punch. People start business because they're good at something, doing something other people want. I'm not good at anything."

Tucker sat up, pushing himself away from the structure and leaning forward. "Yes you are," he said, his words now slightly slurring, "You're good at ghost hunting."

"Yes!" Sam got excited, "That's it! You should start your own ghost hunting agency!"

"I already do that for free..."

"Well, you shouldn't. Let people pay for it if they want their house rid of some ghost that's haunting it. There must be a lot of those around here. We only see the violent ones."

Danny looked at her. Her cheek were flushed, her eyes were sparkling as she was gesturing to emphasize her point. She spilled some wine over her hand and frowned slightly, before licking it off. Slightly distracted, he followed her movement until she looked up and blushed.

"And we'll be in it too," Tucker said, "I work in shifts at CompuStore, I can totally hunt ghosts in my free time and help you out. We'll be... the Ghost Getters!"

Sam moaned. "That is so lame. That's the name Jazz thought up when Danny was away on that fishing trip."

She took another sip from her glass, now obviously slightly drunk, and started laughing. "How about... Phantom Fighters!"

Danny shook his head, amused. "Too obvious. I'm supposed to keep my identity a secret, Sam. How about just Fenton Works II?"

"Fenton works too?" Tucker snickered.

Sam and Tucker's laughter was infectious, and a small smile tugged at Danny's lips. Sam got up, swaying a little, and raised her finger.

"I know," she said, and then frowned, "No, I forgot."

She sat down again with a thud. Tucker was in hysterics.

"S-s-s...," he spluttered, taking several attempt to get it out, "S-Spook Spotters!"

Danny stared at Sam. She was giggling. Sam never giggled. It was not goth-like. She furrowed her brow in a comical concentration.

"Apparition Apprehenders," she got out, and Tucker started applauding her accomplishing this feat without stuttering.

Danny shook his head, now grinning widely. Trust his friends to make him feel better. An idea struck him, and he raised his glass.

"Specter Detectors," he said, eyes flashing green for a moment.

His friends quieted down and looked at him. Then Sam raised her glass too, and nodded. Tucker solemnly joined in, and they toasted.

"Specter Detectors it is," Tucker said, "You'll fly me home tonight, right, Danny? I don't think I'm up for driving right now."

* * *

**SPECTER DETECTORS**

**Episode 1: The Broken Mirror**

**(one year and five months later)**

* * *

"Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five..."

Mumbling softly to herself, Sam Manson was counting the stack of bills on the desk in the corner of the small room, sitting on the swivel chair that didn't swivel and leaning dangerously back against the back of the chair. She frowned slightly when she caught sight of a particularly large bill, but for the most of them, they were minor. Heating. Electricity. Ghost Hunter's Weekly. She raised her eyebrows at that last one. Did they even get that magazine?

Frowning, she put it aside for later inspection, making a mental note to ask Danny about it. She didn't put it above him to subscribe to something like that, but more likely was that his father had had something to do with it. Money was tight.

A loud curse from the other side of the room diverted her attention from the annoying stack of papers, and she looked up to see Tucker crawl out from under the other desk in the room, sucking his thumb. On top of the desk there were two laptop computers and one desktop computer with it's case lifted off, showing the myriad of wires on the inside.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Sam asked, without moving.

Tucker grumbled something inaudible and inspected his thumb. Sam squinted and was able to make out a tiny red spot on it.

"What are you doing anyway?" she asked him.

Tucker gestured at the desk that was supposed to be against the wall, but now stood in the middle of the room, making it hard to get past it to the door. The three computers on it were shoved together awkwardly, leaving no space for anything else save for some screwdrivers.

"I was trying to fasten that cable holder against the back of the desk," he said, "Or we'll be tripping over the wires in here. Hit my thumb with the stupid screwdriver."

He sat down on the wooden chair that Danny had confiscated from a pile of furniture to be picked up by the garbage removal. It was old and had almost no paint left on it, but it was still functional. He pressed the button on the desktop computer with the case still off, and it whirred to life.

"At least we're connected," he said.

Sam rolled her eyes, pulled a large cardboard box closer to her and placed her feet on it, throwing a short glance at the Fenton Finder that was sitting on the desk next to her, turned on and plugged into the socket on the wall to recharge it. It was old too, and the battery lasted only about two hours nowadays, but this was the only device that could alert them to the presence of the Box Ghost if Danny wasn't around.

"What's keeping him?" Tucker asked, "He's letting us do all the work while he sits around in the Nasty Burger, chatting up Paulina?"

To his satisfaction, he saw a flash of anger cross Sam's face, to be immediately replaced by a blank, noncommittal one. She shrugged and was about to answer that he was probably in a ghost fight, when the door downstairs opened. Tucker got up in a hurry, his mouth open to shout a warning, when a loud crash and a stream of curses told them Danny had found the empty boxes that were stacked in the narrow hallway downstairs.

"There he is," Tucker said.

Footsteps on the stairs, a loud voice commenting on fire regulations, Box Ghosts and moving in general, and then Danny burst through the door, holding yet another cardboard box. He stopped at the entrance, looked around the small room that was slowly turned into an office and then carefully placed it on top of another box standing close to the door, containing, according to the large letters on the side, 'Books And Stuff'.

"Coffee maker," he declared, "Can't live without it."

"Where'd you get it, some yard sale?" Tucker asked, looking at the dusty brown device.

Danny looked at him indignantly. "And what if I did?"

Tucker shook his head, grinning. "Nothing, man, nothing."

Danny looked around the room again, taking in the mess on the two desks, the boxes piled high against the wall, the partially dismantled computer and finally rested his eyes on Sam, who was still sitting on the chair with her feet on the box. For a moment, his eyes wandered to her legs with the fish net stockings, and he blushed. Tucker shook his head. Nine years, and still clueless. College had brought him neither a degree nor common sense and certainly no guts. In the girl department, that was. Tucker would never question Danny's courage when it came to ghost fighting.

"Where have you been?" Sam asked, "Other than scorching yard sales for a coffee maker?"

Something was up, she saw, because Danny started rubbing the back of his neck. She hoped he hadn't really been chatting up Paulina at the Nasty Burger. Not that the woman would have paid any attention to him, other than the professional politeness that was required of her. Then she smiled, thinking about the irony of the fact that Paulina was now flipping burgers. Justice, after all this time.

"Well, you know," Danny said in the meantime, "I, um, went to Fenton Works. To, um, oversee the loading of the moving trucks. Yeah."

"Are they finished already?" Tucker asked, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Danny was acting more nervous than usual, "Did your parents power down the ghost portal? Have you figured out what to do with the ghosts we're gonna capture when business goes booming?"

"Right," Sam muttered, glancing at the bills.

Danny flinched. "Yes they did. And then they dismantled it, and I wanted to see that. Because we're going to have to put it back together again," he said, frowning a little as he thought about the complicated procedure, "I took pictures. And between us I think we'll be able to figure it out."

"Wait a minute," Tucker said, looking at him wide eyed, "They let _you_ have the ghost portal?"

Danny looked at the floor. "Um," he said, "It seems that the truck that was carrying it got waylaid. Sort of. And they delivered it to the wrong address. In fact," he walked to the window, "It's sitting on the side walk in front of the door, I was hoping you guys could give me a hand and get all the stuff into the basement."

Tucker and Sam stared at him, and then they both jumped up and rushed to the window. A pile of boxes, strange metal objects and the two steel doors that were supposed to close the portal were indeed standing on the sidewalk right in front of the door, already attracting a small crowd of children, who were starting to poke at the strange equipment. Danny opened a window and leaned out.

"Hey!" he shouted.

The children ran off in all directions, but stopped about thirty feet away and turned around, ready to get closer again when the owner went back inside.

"Come on," Danny said hurriedly, "Before they rob us blind."

He rushed down the stairs, effectively preventing his friends from asking any more questions. Taking out an old, rusty key chain that was hanging next to the door downstairs, he opened another door that led them into the garage on the first floor, directly underneath his small 'office'. It was filled with two old cars and lots and lots of spare parts, tires, tools and otherwise unidentified equipment. Sam looked around curiously, knowing that this space wasn't included in the rent.

"What are you doing?" she asked, "We're not supposed to be in here, are we? Where's that basement?"

Danny opened the garage door and turned to grin at her. "I happened upon it by accident. Come on, let's get this stuff inside, and I'll phase it through the floor."

They started hauling everything inside the already cramped garage, shooing away the curious children and a few grown ups with more time on their hands than was good for them. It was a tight fit, but they managed, and when Danny closed the garage door again both Sam and Tucker were standing with their backs against the wall, unable to move.

Danny smiled brightly and with a flash transformed into Danny Phantom, now no longer ghost boy, but more a ghost man. It had baffled the media and his parents when they discovered that the Phantom aged normally, like any other kid, growing a few inches every year, and otherwise filling out nicely. Danny had worried about that for a while, fearing that they would see the similarities between him and his alter ego. But they never did, and he hid his lean figure under wide t-shirts and baggy pants. Fortunately, he looked nothing like his evil self from another time line.

Quickly, he turned himself intangible and floated through the boxes to Sam and Tucker, grabbed a hold of them and phased them through the floor. They landed in the dark cellar, and after letting his friends go, he lit a small green ecto ball to light up the place.

It wasn't so much a basement, but more like the open space in the foundation of the house, damp, moldy and dirty. The floor consisted of bare concrete, covered with sand and mouse droppings. At least, Sam hoped they were mouse droppings. Pipes ran along the ceiling at one point, probably the water supply and the drainage.

"Oookaaay," Sam said, "You know this isn't really a basement, do you?"

Danny shrugged. "It was the best I could come up with. And it's safe. There's no entrance other than the hatch right inside my front door. Like I said, I discovered this by accident. It's underneath the doormat." He looked around. "OK, so we'll have to clean the place up a little. But it's perfect, look!"

He pointed at the power lines. "We can tap electricity off here to power the portal, once we've figured out how to put it back together again."

"Yes, about that," Tucker interrupted him, "Are you going to tell us how you managed to get a hold of it?"

Danny sighed. "I, um, borrowed it?" he said, again rubbing the back of his neck, knowing his friends wouldn't approve of his euphemism.

"You borrowed it," Sam said neutrally, "And your parents, like, won't notice it's gone at all?"

Danny shook his head. "They're not going to use it. They were just going to store it with the rest of the stuff they didn't need. They won't notice. And I really need it, Sam."

"You stole it," she said.

Danny felt the sudden need to take a deep breath, even though in his ghost form, he didn't really have to.

"I stole it," he admitted, "And for good measure, I also took some ecto guns, you know, the ones that go on your wrist like a watch."

"Anything more?" Tucker asked.

Danny looked at the ground. "Maybe a bazooka. Or two. And the thermoses. And..."

"So basically, you took the whole lab _and_ the contents of the weapons vault," Tucker continued, his face still expressionless.

"Um...yeah."

"Cool!" Tucker was grinning now. "How'd you pull that off?"

Danny grinned back at him, obviously relieved his friend seemed to take it well. "I overshadowed the driver. It was a bit hard in the beginning, because I've never driven a truck like this before, but I managed."

"Danny," Sam said quietly.

He looked at her, his green eyes blinking, trying to somehow plea with her to understand. He had known she would disapprove. He just hoped she would see things his way.

"I can't believe you stole all that stuff. It's not right, Danny. There must have been some other solution."

The expression on his face shifted, and suddenly he no longer looked benign, goofy, but dangerous and serious, having a stern look in his eyes.

"I _need_ this stuff. They were going to store it. They are going to work for the _GIW_, probably making weapons that are going to destroy me, tear me apart _molecule by molecule_. And now that they have proper funding, chances are that they are going to succeed. I have enough on my plate as it is, don't you dare try and lay a guilt trip on me."

He shot up through the ceiling, leaving the ecto ball with them, to return moments later with two intangible boxes. A dozen more trips brought the rest down, filling the entire front end of the basement from dirty floor to low ceiling. None of them had to actually bend down to be able to move around, but Tucker, the tallest of the three, every now and then felt his hair brush against the concrete that made up the ceiling.

When Danny had finished bringing everything down they stood quietly for a while, taking in the quantity of the equipment, getting a little discouraged by the enormity of the task of cleaning the basement, adjusting it to their needs and shifting through the boxes to find the right parts for the portal. And then bring it to life without electrocuting themselves.

Sam shuddered suddenly, remembering that fateful day ten years ago, when she had thought her friend had died. And he had, in a way. She glanced at him sideways, but he didn't look at her, staring at the ground instead. Tucker seemed to sense their discomfort with each other.

"Let's get upstairs," he said, "Finish unpacking."

* * *

It was late in the afternoon when they had finally finished unpacking everything, storing everything in what was now officially the office of their small endeavor. Tucker had drilled holes in the wall to put up some shelves, and the walls were quickly covered entirely with books. Mostly about ghosts, although there were some about star systems and space exploration as well. Even though Danny had given up his dreams about being an astronaut years ago, he still held on to the things in his past when life had been less complicated.

They had worked in silence, Danny and Sam mostly ignoring each other, and Tucker wrapped up in his own thoughts. Finally, he pushed the desk back against the wall and put the old, wooden chair in front of it. The desktop computer was put back together, and it was turned on, showing a swirling screen saver. Tucker mentally made a note of this, he'd have to replace the screen saver with something more fitting. Pictures of ghosts, or maybe he could design something himself, some animated ghost figures floating through the screen.

"I'm beat," Danny said, letting himself slide to the floor, his back against the door, leaving the swivel chair at the other desk for Sam.

She frowned at this courtesy, but seeing no reason to protest, other than to just make a point, she sat down on it. The years had not diminished her beliefs or her vigor, but she had mellowed a bit, acquiring something that looked like diplomacy. She no longer felt the need to fight prejudice and male chauvinism every step of the way, but recognized that sometimes Danny and Tucker did things for her just because they liked her for herself, not because she was a woman. And suddenly she felt guilty.

"I'm sorry, Danny," she said, looking him in the eyes, "I shouldn't have attacked you. I know you're under a lot of pressure."

"Yeah, well," he said, wiping his hair out of his face, "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have yelled at you for being right. It's just that I really didn't see any other way. I absolutely have to have a portal, to get rid of the ghosts we capture. The thermoses have their limits, and besides, I don't like to leave them in there for too long. It's really cramped in there."

Tucker shuddered when thinking about the small devices, trying to imagine what it was like to be pressured inside.

"What's it like?" he asked.

Danny stared at him. "Unpleasant," he said, "And even more unpleasant when there's more than one ghost in there."

"What happens then?" Tucker asked, curious, never having wondered about that before, "Can you move in there? Or are you just snuggled together, pressed against each other? Have you ever filled it to the max?"

"Can we move to another subject?" Danny asked, irritably, "Just try not to suck me in, alright? How about we order some pizza?"

Sam looked at her watch and shook her head.

"Count me out," she said, "I'm supposed to have dinner with my parents." She made a face. "If I can survive that, I can survive anything. I'll be back later this evening, and we'll start on the basement, alright? Will you be here?"

"I'm always here," Danny said, "I live here."

Sam paused putting on her coat and looked at him in surprise.

"You live here? Where? I thought you said you were going to rent an apartment?"

Danny shook his head. "Too expensive. Besides, this way I can keep an eye on the portal when it's operational. And I can sleep really late and still be in time for work."

"Where did you put your stuff?" Tucker asked, looking around the small office.

"In the back room."

"Back room?"

"Back room. As in, room in the back. Come on, I'll show you," Danny said, getting up and opening the door that led to the hallway. To his left, the stairway that led downstairs, and another stairway going up, leading to more rooms upstairs. At the end of the hallway was a window with a view on a brick wall, a small counter with a sink and Danny's new coffee machine. And another door.

Danny opened it and showed them into a small room, containing his bed and a small wardrobe. Another door led to a small bathroom. The three of them filled the room completely, and Danny had to sit down on the bed to let them all in.

"You mean the back closet," Tucker commented.

Danny shrugged. "Can't be helped," he said, "I'll rent something bigger when business is booming. It's not so bad."

Sam was silent. They all knew she had offered to pay for the whole startup of the business, but Danny had flatly refused that, only going as far as having her lend their small company enough money to pay the rent for the first couple of months of a small office in a shabby neighborhood. She wasn't about to go suggesting she pay for a decent apartment for him, knowing he would get angry at that. Instead, she started buttoning up her coat.

"I have to go," she said, "See you later, guys."

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

They all froze, staring at each other, and then, in a burst of energy, they rushed through the door. Danny grabbed a hold of Sam and Tucker at the top of the stairs, pushing them into his office, ordering them to act 'professionally' and then thundered down the stairs to open the door, mentally making a note of the fact that he needed to install a system to open the door from above.

He tripped on the doormat and stumbled against the door with a loud thunk, before finally opening it and staring into a familiar face.

"Mr.. Mr Lancer," he said, "What are you doing here?"

The overweight teacher looked back at him and raised his eyebrows.

"Mr. Fenton," he said politely, "I am here to, how shall I say it, acquire your services."

He pointed at the newspaper tucked under his arm, folded in such a way that it showed the advertisement in it, announcing that Specter Detectors Ltd. was now open for business.

"Wow," Danny said, rubbing his head where he had hit the door and trying to recover from his surprise, "I mean, come in, into my office, um, upstairs. Sorry for the mess, we just moved in here."

Mr. Lancer carefully stepped over the remnants of wrapping paper scattered across the hallway and the folded boxes that had fallen over, which had been standing at the door to be put outside the next morning for the garbage disposal. He followed Danny up the stairs and into his office, to find Sam and Tucker there, Sam standing at the window and Tucker seated at the computer. They both turned their heads to see who entered.

"Mr. Lancer!" they both exclaimed at the same time.

"Ms Manson and Mr Foley. I should have known," Mr Lancer said, looking around the small office.

His eyes scanned the books on the walls, the huge Dracula poster on the door, courtesy of Sam, and finally rested on Danny, standing in the middle of the room, looking at him expectantly. They all seemed at loss about what to say.

"Um, right," Danny said suddenly, "Would you like to sit down? Can I get you something... no wait, I don't have anything yet, still have to go shopping... Is this a courtesy visit, or is there something we can do for you?"

Mr Lancer let the stream of words float over him and smiled slightly at his former student. Despite the obvious physical changes and the slight impression of maturity, he could still see the awkward boy shining through, making up lame excuses for his tardiness or lack of attention. He sat down carefully on the swivel chair, and Danny sat down on the corner of the desk Tucker was sitting at. Sam leaned over to him, whispered something into his ear and then turned to Mr Lancer.

"I'm sorry Mr Lancer," she said, "I have to go. Maybe we'll meet again some other time. Goodbye."

Unbidden, Mr Lancers eyes drifted to her hands, but he saw no ring there. She walked to the door, Danny staring after her, and Mr Lancer looked questionably at Tucker, who rolled his eyes. He cleared his throat, and Danny's attention snapped back to him.

"It is both," Mr Lancer said, answering Danny's last question, "Actually, it's a coincidence. We've had some... disturbances at the school, and I saw your ad today. Still, I wouldn't have been here if the latest disturbance hadn't involved principal Inshiyama."

"What do you mean by disturbances?" Danny asked, "Aren't the GIW supposed to take care of public spaces and buildings?"

The GIW had taken up permanent residence in Amity Park, and their conspicuous presence was now everywhere. They drove around in white vans, looking menacing, and everybody, ghost, half ghost, or otherwise completely human, stayed out of their way. Their blatant incompetence was only compensated by their number. It took a whole platoon to take out the Box Ghost, with a smirking Danny watching from a rooftop. They were getting better though.

"Yes," Mr Lancer said, "They searched the school, and declared it free of ghosts. But the incidents didn't stop. Do you remember the legend of locker 724?"

Danny shuddered, remembering all too well. For a while, he had thought he would be trapped in the ghost zone high school forever, tormented by Pointdexter's classmates.

"Yes," he said, "But I smashed the mirror... I mean, I heard that that was resolved years ago."

Mr Lancer stared at him, and Danny started fidgeting.

"Look, could you tell me what happened?" he asked, trying to get Mr Lancer's attention away from his little slip-up.

"Originally, it was just an urban legend," Mr Lancer began, "Locker 724 being haunted. I remember it was said to be haunted even when I was in high school."

"_You_ went to Caspar High?" Tucker interrupted, trying, but failing, to picture a teenaged Mr Lancer.

Mr Lancer frowned at him, but continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"It was a hoax," he said, "A story to scare the freshmen with. There has never been a Pointdexter at the school. But the story lived on, and nothing ever happened until a few weeks ago."

"And ten years ago," Danny mumbled.

"What was that?"

Danny waved his hand. "Nothing. Go on?"

Mr Lancer shrugged. "It was nothing serious at first. Missing assignments. The hallway, suddenly flooded from the drinking fountain. People tripping for no reason. It would have gone unnoticed, if it hadn't been for the fact that students heard a, and I quote, 'hollow laughter' when it happened."

Danny leaned forward. "Who were affected? Was it just anybody, or could the victims be described as... bullies?"

Mr Lancer was silent for a moment.

"We do have a problem in that area," he finally admitted, "Yes, I suppose you could say the victims were prone to tease other students. But today..."

He paused, looking intently at Danny's serious face, as if trying to gauge whether he could trust him.

"Today," he continued, "Our star football player attacked Mrs Inshiyama. And last week, a boy got injured because he suddenly started slamming his head into the lockers. The GIW can't help us, and I saw your ad. Your parents..."

He stopped when he saw Danny wince at the mentioning of his parents, and wondered what had happened. Surely he outgrew the feeling of embarrassment he had felt as a teenager?

Danny waved his hand dismissively. "My parents have moved out of town. I'm the only one left. What happened to the football player and Mrs Inshiyama?"

Mr Lancer got up and walked to the window. It was darkening quickly outside, and the overcast sky made it even darker. He frowned at the shabby street downstairs, thinking that he would be walking alone in this neighborhood. Danny moved next to him, and seemed to know what he was thinking.

"We'll leave together, and you can fill me in on today's incident," he said, "We can do a preliminary investigation of the premises, the school in this case, for a standard price, and then we'll be able to tell you what it would cost to get rid of the... disturbances. We can do that tonight if you want."

He rummaged through the papers on the desk, retrieved the price list they had set up only the day before and gave it to Mr Lancer, who studied it.

Danny smiled. "We also offer a guarantee period of two years, meaning that if the ghost comes back during that time, we'll get rid of it again, for free."

Mr Lancer carefully folded the price list and nodded. Danny turned to Tucker. "You coming?"

"Sure am," Tucker grinned, "But could we stop by the Nasty Burger on the way? I'm kinda hungry."

* * *

Tucker parked his car in the now empty parking lot in front of the school, and got out, still munching on his burger. Mr Lancer got out from the passenger side and Danny climbed out of the back seat. The three of them looked at the dark school for a moment, and then Tucker quickly walked to the back of the car to get their equipment out of the trunk. Most of it was for show, as the best equipment they had was standing next to Mr Lancer, regarding the school. The small wrist ecto blaster, however, was entirely useful.

Mr Lancer opened the door and let them in, the tingling of his keys echoing through the empty hallways. The three of them stepped inside, and Danny and Tucker looked around in their former school for the first time in over six years. For a moment, Danny was struck with a strange feeling of nostalgia. Life had been simpler then, less stressful. He didn't have to worry about unpaid bills back then, or when, not if, he would be fired from his umpteenth job, or if their new business would be successful.

"Did you bring the Fenton Finder?" he asked Tucker, more out of need to say something to break the silence than an actual desire to find out.

"Yup," Tucker said, fishing the thing out of his backpack and turning it on. It gave off a soft hum and the display lit up. He shook his head. "Doesn't pick up anything."

Danny shook his head. He already knew that, but they had to go through the motions for Mr Lancer's sake. He started walking through the hallway into the direction of locker 724, followed by Tucker and Mr Lancer, the latter looking curiously at Tucker's assorted equipment sticking out of his backpack.

The locker looked just the way he remembered it, somehow older and more worn than the ones around it, the paint peeling off and slightly dented. And yet, this was what should be causing the trouble, the latest of which being a football player who had, apparently in a fit of rage, sprayed the principal, Mrs Inshiyama with a fire extinguisher. But students had testified later that he didn't seem to be himself, and that his eyes had been glowing red. A clear sign of overshadowing.

"Nobody is using it," Mr Lancer volunteered.

He stepped forward, quickly turned the knob for the combination and opened it. It was completely empty. The hook on which the mirror had hung ten years before was still there, and an oval shaped discoloring of the back of the locker indicated it's size. Danny put his hand against it and pushed, closing his eyes in concentration.

He felt... almost nothing. Just a remnant, a whisper of a presence, probably a long time ago. This wasn't the portal. And he was convinced that what they needed to find was the portal through which Pointdexter managed to make it into the school. Feeling Mr Lancer's eyes on him, he quickly withdrew his hand, muttering something inaudible. Then he took the Fenton Finder from Tucker's hands and looked at it, as if studying it.

"Something was here," he said finally, "But it's gone now. This isn't the portal. We need to search the school."

He glanced around and walked away from Tucker and Mr Lancer, holding the ghost finding device in his hands, but not looking at it. Slowly, he walked along the lockers, letting his hand slide on the doors, trying to feel something, anything. An idea struck him and he walked to the restrooms and after that the locker rooms, anywhere where there was a mirror. None of them, however, gave off the slightest tingling, in fact, the only time he felt something when he was walking around the school, closely followed by Tucker and Mr Lancer, was when he touched the back of locker 724.

"That can't be it," he muttered.

He stood in front of the locker, staring at it, willing it to give up it's secret, oblivious to the now extremely curious Mr Lancer and the increasingly nervous Tucker. He pondered his options for a moment, and then turned to Mr Lancer.

"This is going to take days," he said, looking apologetically, "I'll have to stake out the ghost, wait for it to come out. With some luck, I'll be able to find where it's coming from, and then we'll be able to close the portal."

Mr Lancer nodded. "You have a week," he said, "Please try not to scare the students by walking around with those devices. We don't need a panic, we're in enough trouble as it is, with Lance Gardner attacking the principal."

Danny grinned. "Don't worry. They won't even know I'm there."

He turned to Tucker.

"What's your schedule tomorrow?"

Tucker took out his inevitable PDA and looked, although he knew his schedule perfectly well.

"I don't start until two," he said, "You want me to interview the students who were attacked?"

Danny nodded, and then glanced sideways to Mr Lancer. "Try to find out if the bullying has increased of late," he said, "There must be some explanation for all of this. Pointdexter doesn't just attack for no reason."

They said their goodbyes to Mr Lancer and left him to lock up. Mr Lancer watched them leave, wondering whether they were going to succeed where the GIW had failed. Somewhere in the past years, Daniel Fenton, the clumsy schoolboy from long ago, had changed into a confident young man. But only when he was hunting ghosts. What had struck Mr Lancer as extremely odd was that Danny had hardly used the device he had been holding, instead examining everything with his hands. He wondered if the man was psychic. That could explain his strange behavior during the years he was in Caspar High.

* * *

Tucker sighed and rubbed his eyes, pushing his glasses up. His laptop was standing in front of him, full of notes taken from the interviews he had held with fourteen students who had seen or experienced something.

There was Trish Olson, a cheer leader, whose behavior reminded Tucker a little bit too much of Paulina. She had walked down the hallway, 'minding her own business', when suddenly, out of nowhere, a whole bucket of black ink had splashed on her. She had been angry and had practically shouted at Tucker in her frustration. She then grudgingly admitted teasing a classmate who was 'fat and ugly'.

He had then spoken to aforementioned classmate, Patricia Dubois, a shy, slightly overweight blond girl with thick glasses, who hardly looked at him. But she smiled a little when Tucker began asking her about the incident with the ink. She confirmed that Trish, and in fact, the whole cheer leading squad, were pretty relentless in their bullying of her and some other girls, from simple things like knocking her books from her hands to more elaborate torments like hiding her clothes when she was in the shower in the locker room. Tucker got the impression school was a living hell for Patricia and a lot of others he interviewed after her, and had started to sympathize with Pointdexter. Until he heard Jay Fletcher's story.

The junior sauntered into the empty classroom Tucker was sitting, managing to look both bored and a little apprehensive.

"Mr Foley?" he asked, hovering at the door, seemingly ready to bolt the moment Tucker told him it had been a mistake he had been called in there.

"Jay Fletcher, right?" Tucker asked, gesturing at the chair on the other side of the desk, secretly enjoying his brief position of power in the school.

The boy looked like an athlete, standing almost as tall as Tucker himself, and at first he thought he would hear the story of a bully that got pranked by Pointdexter. But then he noticed the boy's too long brown hair, the silver hoop in his left ear, and a pair of combat boots Sam would have loved to see on Danny. He definitely didn't look like the crowd that usually hung out with the jocks and the cheerleaders. Nor did he look like someone who could be bullied by anybody.

The boy hesitantly sat down, nervously fingering the buckle of his backpack, glancing at the clock hanging above the door. "Look," he said, "I don't have time for this, I need to finish my English homework... I'm in enough trouble as it is."

Tucker waved his hand. "We'll keep it short," he said, "Just tell me what happened and you're out of here."

Jay sighed resignedly. "OK, alright. I wasn't doing anything, though. I know it's the bullies that were being attacked, and now everybody thinks I'm one too, but I didn't do anything. I just... happened to be there. That always happens to me."

The boy was practically squirming in his seat, looking at Tucker with pleading eyes, trying to force him to believe him. Tucker shrugged.

"Just talk," he said, "I'm not here to find bullies. I'm here to catch a ghost."

Jay sighed again. He did that a lot, Tucker noticed.

"My locker is at the end of the hallway where Pointdexter's locker is, so I pass by there a lot. And then Ricky Tanenbaum, who's locker is close to mine, opened his locker and he was glued to it, so he couldn't get loose. And I... I laughed, 'cuz it was funny, you know, but I didn't do it. And I shouldn't have laughed, I know what it's like to be bullied... but I couldn't help myself."

"You are bullied?" Tucker asked, incredibly.

Jay smiled suddenly. "Not anymore. I grew tall. I don't fit into a locker anymore."

"So, what happened next?" Tucker asked.

"I.. I don't know. Next thing I know I'm on my back, on the floor. They say I suddenly started banging my head against the lockers and running around like crazy, but... but I don't remember that. I needed ten stitches."

He lifted his hair and Tucker saw an angry red scar just below the hairline, and the remnants of some nasty bruises, now turning a yellowish green. He was just about to comment on it when he felt the temperature in the classroom drop significantly. Quickly, he asked the boy if he could remember anything of use, but Jay shook his head and Tucker dismissed him.

Jay practically ran through the door and the hallway, but stopped when he remembered his backpack. Cursing softly, he turned around and headed back, berating himself for always putting off his homework to the last possible moment. He was going to be in so much trouble.

He burst into the classroom and came to a complete standstill when he saw that Mr Foley was no longer alone. A man with messy black hair, faded jeans and an old dark blue sweater was standing behind Mr Foley, leaning over him and reading something that was on the screen of the laptop computer. He looked up in surprise.

Jay blinked. "How...," he started, and then decided that he didn't have time for this and didn't want to know either. "Never mind. Forgot my backpack. Bye."

Danny stared after the boy, then shrugged and turned his attention back to Tucker's notes, trying to read them as as Tucker scrolled through them, looking for something.

"You know, you really have to be more careful," Tucker said to him.

"Yeah, I know. I'm not used to this, you know. Normally, I'm either Danny Phantom, ghost hunter, or Danny Fenton...um... general nobody. But now I have to be Danny Fenton, ghost hunter. It's kinda hard to integrate those two roles. I feel like I have to become somebody completely new."

Tucker laughed. "You should hear yourself. You're really messed up, you know. I guess we're all messed up, thinking of Phantom as 'normal'."

Then he got serious. "I think you should talk to Jazz. She can help you."

Danny scowled at him. "I've had enough psycho-analyzing from her to last me a lifetime. No thanks."

Tucker shrugged, and turned back to his notes.

"Suit yourself, then. I've talked to fourteen students, both bullies who were victims of Pointdexter and the students who were being bullied, but they really can't tell me anything. The only thing I can make from their stories is that the bullying and the incidents all took place close to locker 724. And all within minutes of each other. I mean, somebody got bullied, and minutes later, he or she got it back at them."

He was silent for a moment.

"You know, I thought it was pretty funny at first. I mean, I can see why you wouldn't want a ghost in the school, but those bullies really had it coming."

Danny rubbed the back of his neck, smiling ruefully. "Yeah, me too. But you changed your mind?"

Tucker nodded. "It's getting out of hand. That last student I talked to, the one that came bursting in here and almost busted you, he got injured. He needed ten stitches. And the football player who attacked the principal, he only managed to spray her with foam, but they say they had a tough time restraining him, or he might have hit her with the fire extinguisher as well. He's in the hospital with a concussion, because they had to knock him down."

Danny frowned. "Pointdexter was never this violent... I wonder if it's really him."

He sat down on a desk and rubbed his eyes.

"Ghost fight last night? You should have called me..." Tucker said.

"Nah," Danny answered, yawning, "Me and Sam cleaned up part of the basement after you left. It needs a little bit more work than I thought, so I'll get back at it after we finish here. There's no point in staying here if there are no students around."

He frowned. "I wonder if we can hurry this up a little, stage a fight or something, draw him out."

Tucker shook his head. "Lancer will never agree to putting students in danger," he said and then glanced at his watch. "I have to go, or I'll be late. I'll email the notes of the interviews to you tonight."

Danny nodded. "I'll hang around here some more, but the students seem to be pretty subdued because of this whole thing. I doubt I'll be able to see something, but you never know. What was the name of that last student you were talking to?"

Tucker looked at his notes. "Jay Fletcher. Why?"

"I think I'll have a little chat with him," Danny said, transforming into his ghostly self.

Tucker blinked as he disappeared from sight, then shrugged and quickly stuffed his laptop into his bag. If he hurried, he could get a bite at the cafeteria before heading to work.

* * *

"Did you do this on purpose?"

Sam and Danny were sitting on the floor at the far end of the basement, looking at the freshly painted concrete floor. The only two places that hadn't been painted white were the spot they were sitting and the area where all the boxes and equipment that came from the lab of Danny's parents were stored.

Danny grinned. "Not really. But it doesn't matter."

He let the two white rings transform him into Danny Phantom, held out his hand and drew her close, with the intention of lifting her up and flying her back to the entrance of the basement. Of course, Tucker chose that exact moment to stick his head through the hatch to see what they were doing.

"Hah!" he shouted, "Finally!"

Danny and Sam both sent him their death glare, and he quickly retreated, waiting for them to appear in the hallway.

"Admit it, Danny," he said, when his friend turned back to his human self, "You did that on purpose, just so you could fly her out of there."

To Tucker's pleasure he saw he could still make his friends blush. Sam pushed him into the direction of the stairs, avoiding the handlebar of Danny's bicycle with some difficulty.

"Weren't you the one who was complaining about fire regulations and putting things in the way in your hallway?" she asked.

"Yeah, well, I need it, and if I put it outside it gets stolen," he answered, and then proceeded to walk right through it, "It's not in the way. But then, nothing is."

Grinning, he followed his friends upstairs where they made themselves comfortable, Danny on the floor with his back against the door, Sam seated in the swivel chair and Tucker on the wooden chair near the computer. He bend forward and flipped it on, out of habit.

"So," Tucker said to Sam, "What did you find out?"

She shrugged and looked at the darkness outside for a moment.

"Not much. There really was no Pointdexter in the school, I looked through all the records, and I went to the library to look at old newspapers. If something happened, you would say they would have reported about it, but there's really nothing there. Then I did a search on the internet, but I only got references to the 'legend of Pointdexter', here at the school. I think that's really all it is, a legend, a story made up by students to scare other students."

Danny shook his head. "But we _know_ Pointdexter is real though. So where did he come from?"

He got up and walked to the window, staring idly at the street below, lit by the orange glow of the street lights. He thought about the ghosts he knew, ghosts of people that died long ago, all with an obsession. If it wasn't for that obsession, that link to the living, they wouldn't exist. Boxes. Technology. Writing.

And then he thought about the tiny blob that was Skulker. Where had he come from? He felt a sudden need to talk to Jazz, uncomfortable as that might be. It would have to wait until morning, though, she wouldn't appreciate him calling her at eleven o'clock in the evening.

"Let's call it a day," he said tiredly and then, turning to Sam, "I'll walk you to your car."

"You know I can take care of myself, don't you?"

Danny grinned at the dangerous undertone in her voice. "Sure. But all those muggers and rapists out there don't know that. I'm saving them a beating."

* * *

Wednesday passed pretty much the same way as the day before, with the exception that Tucker wasn't there to help him, but Sam. Mr Lancer seemed pleased to see her and took her on a tour around the school, pointing out the differences to her, showing her the new science lab and the upgraded library. She seemed very interested, and Danny happily let them go while he resumed his stake out of locker 724.

He made sure Mr Lancer saw him every now and then, but he walked around invisible as often as he could, mingling with the students, watching their behavior. They seemed normal enough to him, if a little subdued, eying Pointdexter's locker nervously. At this rate, it would take weeks to get them back to their normal bullying. Time Danny didn't have.

At the end of the day, he spotted the lanky brown haired teen who had been talking to Tucker the day before. He was standing at his locker, by himself, rummaging through his books to get the ones he needed at home. Danny turned visible around the corner and quietly walked up to him.

"Jay Fletcher?" he asked.

The boy jumped, slammed his locker shut and turned around, white faced. Too late Danny realized that the he had been attacked by a ghost here, and must be scared to death about the possibility that it could happen again.

"Sorry," he said apologetically, "Didn't mean to scare you. I'm Danny Fenton."

He held out his hand and Jay shook it hesitantly. "The ghost hunter," he said, "Find anything yet?"

Danny shook his head, looking at the student in front of him, trying to gauge whether he could ask him to help him with his plan.

"No," he said, "Problem is, we can't find it unless it manifests itself, and it only does that when there is bullying going on. Everybody has been extremely well behaved around here, so the ghost stays away."

"Yeah, well," Jay said tensely, "That's a good thing, right? I mean, if it keeps people from bullying, then the problem is solved, right?"

Danny studied him. He didn't really mean that. The boy was glancing up and down the hallway, seemingly eager to get out of there as fast as possible.

"Do you really think that?" he asked, "People will forget after a while, and it'll start all over again. The ghost injured you and almost injured principal Inshiyama. What will be next? And you told us it doesn't always get the right person either."

Jay looked at the floor. "Huh," he grumbled, "You're the only one who believes me then." He looked up. "Apart from Roger, that is."

Danny turned around, and saw a boy with black hair and large glasses, carrying a sloppy backpack, looking at them. Danny smiled an almost feral smile. These two were perfect for his plan. Now all he had to do was convince them to cooperate.

* * *

"Hi Jazz, how's it going?"

"Oh, hi Danny, I'm fine, thanks. How are you doing? How's the business going?"

"Good, I have a client. Listen, I need your opinion on something. What are ghosts?"

"You're kidding, right?" Laughter. "Ghosts are a form of energy, a consciousness, or a manifestation of a strong emotion or obsession. The stronger the emotion or obsession, the stronger the ghost."

"But..." Hesitation. "But what about Skulker. He was never a person, he just... is. Where did he come from?"

"I suppose you don't really need to die to get a strong emotion or obsession. Hey, you're the living proof of that. Maybe Skulker is the accumulated obsessions of hunters throughout the country, or maybe even the world. That'd make sense... maybe I'll do a paper on it."

"Yeah, right, and then you're gonna interview Skulker for it?"

"Why not? You can catch him for me and get him out of that stupid suit of his. Or maybe I can just ask. Who knows, he might even be willing to talk to me."

"Jazz, this is the ghost that's still after my hide. Don't even think of trying to talk to him."

She laughed again, and he felt a pang of longing, suddenly wishing they were all together again, with her living in Amity Park in stead of thousands of miles away, having her own practice and almost married to a guy who was nice enough, Danny supposed, but who also took his sister away from him. A moment later, he regretted that thought.

"When are you going back to college?"

"Jazz..."

"It won't hurt you to do only a few courses. That way you'll still have time to do your ghost hunting and start your business. You could even do one on parapsychology, that way you won't have to call me all the time for information."

"Look..."

"Come on, Danny, you're wasting your talents. You have so much potential, you're smart, I know you are, and..."

"Can we just get back to the subject?"

"I thought we were finished? What else did you want to know?"

Danny closed his eyes. "Remember Pointdexter?"

"Locker 724? That's a legend, a story to scare other students."

"Oh, he's real enough. I beat him ten years ago and now it seems he's back, only more violent than before. Point is, there was never a student named Pointdexter in the school, so I though it could be he's like Skulker."

Silence at the other side of the line.

"I suppose the negative energy of all the students being bullied could accumulate into a ghost. But I think it'd need some sort of object to attach itself to... oh. The locker. The legend created itself, it manifested itself as the story the students had thought up themselves. Funny."

"Yes, well, I destroyed the mirror it used as a portal ten years ago. The locker itself seems clean."

"Maybe you didn't destroy all of it? You said Pointdexter is more violent now. It could have something to do with the nature of the bullying that's going on at the school. Did you check if there are any gangs in the school? Students being extorted, that sort of stuff? Drugs? Weapons? I think the nature of the haunting would change if the cause of it changed."

Danny sighed, and stared out of the window of his tiny bedroom.

"Danny? Will we see you at Christmas?"

"Are you gonna stop nagging?"

"I'm not nagging. I'm just concerned, just like mom and dad. We like to see you do well."

"Well, I'm doing great. And no, I'm not coming because one, I don't like Christmas and two, I don't have the money to buy a plane ticket. Bye, Jazz, thanks for the information."

"Bye, Danny."

* * *

Danny looked at the two boys in front of him, Jay Fletcher and Roger Cully, pale faced but determined. It had taken them a day to arrive to the decision that, yes, they would help him catch the ghost, another day of convincing Mr Lancer that they needed to set up a trap, and then some fast talking from Tucker to convince the boys' parents to agree to their involvement. The argument that had finally convinced them all was that, although the attacks had stopped now, they were bound to come back when everybody forgot about it. At least this way, they would have some control.

"I just need bait," Danny had said to them, "I'd do it myself, but I don't think that would work. There's no danger. We'll be close by, and we'll catch the ghost before it does any harm."

Mr Lancer was still doubtful over the operation and had insisted to stay close by, ready to pull the plug if it appeared to go wrong. Danny wasn't particularly concerned about that, he was sure he'd be able to catch Pointdexter as soon as he came out of hiding. Sam's frown, however, told him that she didn't entirely agree, but she said nothing.

"You'll be right there, right?" Jay asked, "If that ghost...takes me again, can you stop me? I'm pretty strong... I worked out a lot because of the bullying..."

"Don't worry," Danny said reassuringly, measuring the boy, "I can take you."

He wondered what Sam was smiling about. The two boys sauntered into the empty hallway, the students that normally crowded it long gone. Jay, being the taller of the two, would act as the bully, and Roger, a clumsy, heavy boy with his glasses perched at the tip of his nose, looked like the perfect target. He pulled out the ecto gun, for show, and saw Sam and Tucker do the same with the live ones. Besides that, Sam held the thermos and Tucker kept the Fenton Lipstick as a backup gun.

They had convinced Mr Lancer to stay back a little, and the man was standing at the end of the hallway in the doorway of the nurse's office, waiting. Danny felt the tension rise, and willed himself to calm down. He had done this a thousand times before, the only difference was that he was human now, and he had an audience. He peered around the corner.

Down the hallway, Jay and Roger started their little performance, Jay pushing Roger against the lockers right in front of locker 724, shouting at him, demanding money. Danny listened to his threats and wondered for a brief moment where the boy had picked those up. There was definitely something wrong in the school.

The boys were silent for a while, Roger fumbling in his pockets for his wallet, Jay trying to look intimidating, while looking up and down the hallway as if he was concerned somebody might see them. Danny knew he was in fact concerned about the ghost taking over again. Roger handed him the money, and Jay stepped back, seemingly counting it. A blue mist escaped from Danny's mouth. He grinned.

"It's working," he whispered excitedly.

"I know," Sam said, and then, "Watch out!"

It happened so fast nobody could react in time. The bottom of the lockers right under locker 724 suddenly glowed bright green and a green, snake like stream of ectoplasm shot through the hallway and slammed into Jay. The boy seemed frozen on the spot for a moment, and then he dropped the money and moved, his eyes a bright red.

"Get him, Danny!" Tucker yelled, dashing forward and pointing his ecto gun at Jay, but not daring to use it unless it was absolutely necessary. Ecto guns could leave nasty burn wounds.

Danny didn't need to be told what to do. He dashed forward and grabbed hold of Jay just before he could slam his head against a locker, which without a doubt would have given him a concussion had he succeeded. Yelling at his friends to get Roger, who was still standing there wide eyed, out of there, he turned Jay around and pressed him against the lockers, holding him in place. Two glowing red eyes stared at him.

"Fenton," he growled.

It was Pointdexter's voice, and yet, it wasn't. This was something infinity more dark and sinister, and Danny mentally assigned his sister points for correctly assessing Pointdexter's nature. The boy seemed to go limp in his grip and closed his eyes, sighing. Sam and Tucker started to drag a struggling Roger away from the scene, and Danny loosened his grip somewhat, not wanting to cause the boy bruises. A mistake.

Pointdexter's eyes shot open again and he hurled Danny away from him, using Jay's strength and the element of surprise. Danny slammed into the lockers on the other side of the hallway, causing a few dents. One opened, and a pile of books fell on the floor next to him.

"Look out!" Roger yelled, "He's got a knife!"

Danny scrambled to his feet and got into a fighting stance, taking in his opponent, who now indeed held a small stiletto in his right hand.

"Crap," he muttered, berating himself for not checking the boy for weapons.

Pointdexter grinned evilly and moved forward, seemingly enjoying himself. They circled each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. From the corner of his eyes Danny saw Sam, pointing her gun at Pointdexter, looking uncertain. It was a difficult shot from the end of the hallway, and the risk of hitting Danny was considerable. An ecto gun would probably cause a burn wound on Jay. To Danny, it would cause considerably more damage.

His heart pounding in his throat, Danny decided to wait Pointdexter out. He'd never faced somebody with a knife before, and although he was a pretty good fighter by now, the knife worried him. He knew all about fighting ghosts and fighting people was something else entirely, although he could probably hold his own in unarmed combat. He decided he'd need some training in this. That didn't help him now though.

His eyes shot to the end of the hallway again, and saw that Mr Lancer and Roger were now peering around the corner of the Nurse's office. But maybe they couldn't see them all that well. Sam was blocking their view partially.

He dashed forward, right into Pointdexter's knife, who struck out at him. Going partly intangible at the last possible moment, he let his hand shoot out and reached inside Jay, trying to push the violent ghost out. He hadn't counted on Pointdexter moving his hand at the last possible moment though, and a blinding pain shot through his left arm when the knife hit him in a spot he hadn't turned intangible.

He let out a scream in pain, and then they both slammed against the lockers. Again, Danny slammed his right arm inside of Jay and let a small ecto blast go from his hand, causing the ghost to shriek in anger. But Jay was free now, and the boy sank to the floor, looking dazed. Danny stared at the ghost floating in front of him, resembling Pointdexter in his black and white features, but somehow looking more angular and darker. Then he glanced at his left arm, and saw the knife still sticking out of it, going about halfway in, but not completely through and through. He felt dizzy.

Pointdexter grinned evilly at him and then charged forward, clearly intending to try and use the overshadowing trick on Danny himself. Danny stumbled backwards and raised his his hand to fire at him, too slow. Then a swirling blue vortex appeared out of nowhere, and the ghost started howling, struggling and trying to get a hold of Danny, while he was sucked into the thermos Sam was holding. Two seconds later he was gone.

Quiet settled over the hallway, and Danny leaned against the lockers and let himself slide to the floor. Sam rushed over to him, and he heard the running footsteps of the others. He moved his hand to the knife to pull it out, but Sam stopped him.

"Wait," she said, "He could have hit an artery. Leave it for now, let's go to the nurses office, we'll be able to put a compress on it."

She helped him up, and he was vaguely aware of the others following him into the nurse's office, Roger supporting Jay, Mr Lancer and Tucker following close behind. Sam sat him down and started rummaging through the nurse's supplies until she found what she needed. She curtly dismissed Mr Lancer's suggestion they call an ambulance, said 'brace yourself' do Danny and yanked the knife from the wound, immediately putting the compress on it, and then tied the bandages tightly.

He was surprised at the pain. He'd been hurt before, seriously even, but it had all been when he was in his ghost form. Some wounds transferred to his human half, if they were serious enough, but he had never been wounded while being human before. This would take some getting used to. He stared at Sam's efficient hands. Maybe he could get used to this.

"Miss Manson," Mr Lancer said, "I didn't know you went to med school?"

"I didn't," she said, "But I took a few courses in first aid. Thought it might be useful."

Danny grinned at her, pale faced, but feeling better by the minute. It must have been the shock, he decided, that had made him feel so weak all of a sudden. Then he turned to Jay, who cringed.

"Why on earth are you carrying a knife?" he asked him.

Jay looked at the ground and mumbled something. Mr Lancer looked both angry and worried. Roger was fidgeting and then finally reached into his pocket and put his own knife on the nurse's desk.

"For protection," he said, "Not to use it on anybody, you know, but with all that's been going on lately..."

Mr Lancer looked at them sternly.

"You know I'll have to take it away from you," he said, "And I'll have to inform your parents..."

Both Roger and Jay looked stricken at that. Sam interfered.

"I think," she said to Mr Lancer, "You'll need to investigate what's going on in the school. The nature of the bullying caused the nature of the ghost. I think there's more going on than just your basic bullying here."

She turned to Danny.

"And you're an idiot. What were you thinking, rushing into a knife like that?"

"Um," he said, "I wasn't?"

He managed to look sheepish. Slowly, he eased himself from the couch he had been sitting on and stood up. Then he turned to the two boys.

"Thanks for your help," he said sincerely, and then he bent forward and tried his best piercing look on them. "Tell Mr Lancer what's going on," he said.

They both nodded, and, after a nod from Mr Lancer, rushed out the door. Danny turned to the overweight teacher.

"Well, this settles it. We have the ghost, and we'll dispose of it. Give us a call if there are any more problems, but I don't expect any. And," he smiled at that, "Expect the bill tomorrow. Bye Mr Lancer."

He extended his hand, and Mr Lancer shook it, looking pensive. Danny was just about to walk out of the door, when he spoke.

"Mr Fenton."

Danny turned around.

"I'm not really sure what it is you're trying to hide, but you'll have to do a better job at it. People will notice. Use your equipment more."

Danny looked stunned for a moment, and then he smiled and raised his hand.

"Bye, Mr Lancer," he said.

* * *

The school was dark, deserted, only lit by the pale moon light shining through the windows and the ghostly glow of one Danny Phantom, floating in the middle of the hallway in front of locker number 724. Next to him Sam Manson and Tucker Foley, looking curious as their ghostly friend examined the bottom of the lockers.

"It came from here," Danny said, his hollow voice echoing through the hallway.

He went intangible and stuck his head inside the bottom lockers and then felt below it with his hands. It took him only a minute to find it.

"Look," he said, landing softly on the floor in a semblance of obeying the rule of gravity, holding up a single shard of glass.

"A piece of the mirror you smashed," Tucker whispered, "It's been under the lockers all this time, waiting, accumulating power from the victims of the bullies. And with all these weapons around and the kind of threats that are being used, Pointdexter turned into something nasty..."

Danny nodded and looked at Sam, then threw the shard into the air. Sam whipped out the thermos and caught it neatly into the blue vortex.

"Case closed," she said.


	2. Episode 2: Christmas Mayhem, part 1

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews. People are actually taking the trouble to tell me in detail what they think, helping me with things I don't understand, and just generally encouraging me. You guys rock!

I got a bit carried away with this one. It's long. In fact, it's so long I decided to split it into two parts, edit this first part and post it early. I still have to finish the second part, and I still want to post it on Monday, but I don't know if I'm gonna make it.

* * *

**SPECTER DETECTORS LTD**

**Episode 2: Christmas Mayhem**

**Part 1**

* * *

Danny stood on the pedals of his bicycle, turning his head in every direction as he navigated his way through the heavy traffic, going intangible briefly every now and then to avoid collision with a solid object, unworried that someone might see him do that, because one, everybody was mostly engrossed with his or her own business and two, he was moving too fast for anybody to really have a good look at him. The cold December wind blew his thin jacket up, chilling him to the bone, and he considered himself fortunate that at least, because he was half ghost, he wouldn't get hypothermic. He swirled around two more cars, ignored a red traffic light and dashed into an alley that had a dead end. 

But not to him. Again using his intangibility, he rode right through the wall into the next street, stayed both intangible and invisible and crossed it through a heavy truck. Taking a few more shortcuts that way, he finally arrived at his destination, a small law firm that was waiting for the package he had in his backpack.

He put the bike against a lamppost, put the heavy chain around it without bothering to use the key, instead simply phasing it around the bike and the lamppost. He walked into the office in a hurry, waved at the receptionist and took the elevator to the fifth floor, where he was supposed to deliver the package.

He had found the ideal job for himself, something to do when the ghost hunting business was slow, being a courier hauling packages and important documents across the town of Amity Park. He was the fastest there was, and he knew every inch of Amity Park, both above and under ground. He could use shortcuts nobody else could, and if he was late, he could always go ghost and fly there. Too bad he had also lost a package twice, because Skulker had found it necessary to blast it from his back. His job wouldn't survive a third time. The pay was lousy, but at least he could pay some bills with it.

He had the recipient sign the clipboard and then left in a hurry, taking out his phone to report the delivery and to inquire whether they had something else.

"Hold on," Angie said, and he heard her rummaging through some papers and then the telltale clicks of somebody typing on a keyboard.

"Nope. You can go home. Unless you want to come over and wait for me to finish..."

Danny grinned at the clear invitation and hesitated for a moment. Angie was a nice person, if a bit of a blabbermouth. Whenever he wanted to know something about someone, he asked her. Which was a very good reason to stay away from her, she was far too sharp. A bit like Sam.

"Nah," he said, "I've got things to do. Business to run and all."

She knew all about his ghost hunting business, which was, he had discovered during the past weeks, a good thing. She had personally referred two clients to him, which he had been able to help get rid of two minor hauntings. That, however, had been two weeks ago.

She sighed. "OK. Call in tomorrow if you're not busy, and I'll see what I have for you then, alright? Business is kinda slow at the moment, Christmas and all, you know."

* * *

"Slow indeed," he muttered to himself as he hooked an arm around his bicycle and dragged it up the stairs to his floor. 

Mr Finlay, the man that lived upstairs from him, had complained about it being in the hallway downstairs, so he now stored it next to his little improvised kitchen at the end of the hallway on his floor, making it almost impossible to enter his bedroom. For an ordinary person, that is. Danny just phased through the bicycle and the door, threw his helmet on his bed and walked into his tiny bathroom without stopping.

Inside, he quickly stripped off his clothes and, after examining the already fading scar on his left arm, stepped into the shower to get warm. He let the warm water run over him, happy that his hair no longer hung in his face. Sam had personally cut it off a week ago, complaining about being unable to see his eyes. There really had been no reason for Tucker to get hysterical over that.

He stood there for a while, until he remembered that the hot water supply was limited, and he didn't want to have another row about it with Mr Finlay. He took a deep breath and then turned it off with some regret. When he had been living at home with his parents, he'd had a bathroom all to himself after his sister had left for college, and he missed it. He missed a lot of things.

Back in his room he quickly dressed into his usual attire, jeans and a long sleeved shirt to give the impression that he was dressing for cold weather, and then he turned himself intangible and sank through the floor all the way down to the basement. He no longer gave his casual usage of his ghost powers any thought, other than trying to make sure nobody caught him at it. It had become an integral part of him, he almost couldn't remember not having his powers.

He found the light switch and turned on the two bright lamps they had installed to make working on the portal a little easier. Then he turned around and looked at the partially finished portal for a moment, before picking up the part he had been working on before Angie called, and sat himself on the floor with it.

He had carefully printed out each picture he had taken from the dismantlement by his parents, trying to get as much of it as he could without making it blatantly obvious what he was doing. He had debated himself at the time if he could just ask his parents for the portal, but in the end he had chickened out, instead taking the easy way out by just stealing it, thereby, without them knowing it, confirming their opinion of him. That he was a crook.

The thought hurt him, and he pushed it away, instead looking at the pictures on the wall, trying to make sense of it all. Next to the pictures there were some schematics, found on a CD-ROM that was conveniently packed with the portal, describing part of the wiring. Tucker had given him a crash course reading them, and the more he worked with them, the easier it got. But they were still a long way from a working portal.

The three of them were working on it almost non-stop, whenever they had time off from their respective jobs, although Danny spent the most time at it, being the closest to the thing. Three full thermoses on one of the shelves on the wall, their red warning light blinking, pushed him to try harder, to get it done. He really needed to free the ghosts in there, because he had only one empty thermos left.

He had been at it for about an hour, when a cold mist escaped his mouth, alerting him to the fact that a ghost had dared to actually enter the house. He glanced around, trying to sense where it was coming from and quietly let the two white rings flow over his body, readying him for battle. But he didn't need to look for it.

Before him, a ghost drifted into the basement, a small ghost, like a child, but at the same time looking like an old man, wearing a white tunic and a belt around it's waist.

" I am the ghost of Christmas past," it said.

Danny groaned and let himself go human again. He glared at the ghost and then purposefully turned his back on him, making a show of concentrating on his work. The silence didn't last long.

"Aren't you going to ask, 'long past'?" the ghost asked, sounding annoyed.

"Nope."

"You should. And then I answer..."

"Cut it out, Amorpho. I'm not in the mood."

The ghost hovered for a while, observing Danny, who kept an eye on him form the corner of his eyes. Finally, he morphed back into his usual, faceless form and drifted closer.

"You're no fun today," he said, his voice echoing hollowly through the basement.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm hardly Scrooge. I'm broke. I'm trying to make a living here. Ouch!" Danny glared at the shape shifting ghost, sucking the side of his hand. "Quit distracting me!"

Amorpho leaned closer and stared at the half-finished portal. To compensate for the fact that they couldn't drill a hole in the wall, they had brought in stones and mortar to build a stone room around it, to support the thin metal plating that made up the inside of the portal. They'd measured it out as accurately as they could, and now Danny's strange experience with his numerous jobs came in handy. He'd managed to put up a brick wall that was fairly straight, and Tucker had started on the inside, carefully molding the metal plates into place, making sure that this time, the button was on the outside.

"You've got me here," Amorpho said, "What is that?"

"Ghost portal," Danny said, picking up the spectral energy reader and placing it on the control panel next to the portal, carefully checking his diagrams to make sure he got the wiring right. Tucker would check it later, to make sure they didn't make mistakes. The last thing they wanted was another accident. Danny shivered.

"Look," he said, turning around to the ghost that was, in his own way, mostly harmless, if somewhat annoying, "Why don't you go play your Christmas spirit joke on some one else. How about Vlad? Now there's a person who could use some nagging about Christmas past, present and yet to come!"

"I may be foolish," Amorpho said, "But I'm not stupid. But fine, I'll leave. I'll find somebody who isn't grumpy because it's Christmas. Maybe your pretty girlfriend?"

Before Danny could say anything more, Amorpho phased through the ceiling and out of the house.

"I'm not grumpy because it's Christmas," Danny muttered, "I'm just... grumpy."

* * *

Because he'd forgotten his watch, and there were obviously no windows in the basement, Danny totally lost track of time after Amorpho left. He was concentrating on his work with a vigor that would have raised some eyebrows with Mr Lancer and his parents, accustomed as they were to his usual appearance of slacking. But he had never been this motivated before. 

The sound of the front door opening, and a knock on the hatch alerted him that at least one of his friends and business partners had arrived.

"Danny? Are you down there?"

Sam's voice sounded muffled through the hatch, and he let out a loud 'yep'. He heard her fumble with the hatch for a moment and then it opened with a squeak. Her head appeared, looking down on him.

"Hi," she said.

She climbed down and shut the hatch behind her, as not to alert their upstairs neighbor what they were up to. Fortunately for them, the man was almost deaf, so he didn't hear the noise they were making every now and then. She walked over to him and he smiled at her, putting down his tools.

"Any particular reason for the 'Ghost of Christmas Past' to show up at my apartment and start nagging me while I'm trying to finish my project before Christmas?" she asked.

Danny grinned. "That's just Amorpho. He's harmless, mostly. He came to me first. I told him to go to Vlad's, but he didn't want to."

Sam shuddered. "Can't blame him. Anyway, I told him to go and bother my parents. They're the real Scrooges around here after all."

She looked at the portal.

"Wow," she said, taking in the now finished ring that made up the entrance and the partially assembled control panel, "How long have you been at it? This is great!"

Danny shrugged. "Couple of hours, maybe," he said, "We really need to get it working soon, or I'll have to try and empty the thermoses at Vlad's portal. What time is it?"

"Six", she said without looking at her watch.

"Ah. No wonder I'm hungry." He looked at her speculatively. "Wanna grab a bite somewhere?"

She was about to answer when his cell phone started playing the title song of Ghost Busters.

"You're kidding me," he heard her mutter while he answered his phone.

"Mr Fenton?" a commanding voice asked, "This is Richard Benedict. Please come see me at my house, I can fit you in at seven."

"Um," Danny said, having no idea who Richard Benedict was, "Yes sir. If you could just give me your address...?"

"24, Magnolia Drive," the man said, sounding as if Danny should know that, "Be on time. I have guests arriving at eight."

Danny stared at his phone, a little bemused. Then he turned to Sam.

"Richard Benedict. Know him?"

A pained expression appeared on Sam's face.

"Unfortunately, yes. He's a friend of my parents. Gives dinner parties, and is on the board of directors for several companies, one of which is Axion. He's also a big, pompous bastard who refuses to acknowledge the fact that there are people who don't eat meat. I always used go hungry when I had to attend one of his barbecues. He's our client?"

Danny nodded, turned on his heels and grabbed the last thermos from the shelf. Sam gathered the two ecto guns and one wrist ecto blaster, her favorite weapon. It made her feel just a little bit like she was Danny's equal when it came to shooting ecto blasts. Hours of target practice had made her almost as accurate as Danny was.

"Can we take your car?" Danny asked while opening the hatch, "We can drive by the Nasty Burger for some food on our way there."

"Sure can," Sam answered, climbing after him and shutting off the light, "We'll have to hurry though, we'll have to go straight across town in rush hour."

Danny grinned. "Don't worry. I know a few special shortcuts if we're running late."

* * *

It took them almost the entire hour to drive across town, something that would normally have taken them less than twenty minutes. Danny insisted on eating something, saying he couldn't hunt ghosts on an empty stomach. The Nasty Burger was very busy at this hour, and the line in the drive through was long, taking another twenty minutes of their time to get across town. It took two of Danny's 'special' shortcuts to make it. 

Sam stopped at the huge iron gate, got out of the car and pressed the button. A posh voice with a heavy English accent answered, which Sam took to be the butler. She informed them that 'Specter Detectors' had arrived, and moments later the gate swung open, allowing them access.

Danny stared in amazement at the vastness of the grounds they were on. He had assumed it would be a house not unlike that of Sam's parents, but this looked more like an estate, the entranceway rolling through the woods until they came to the huge house.

The house itself was a surprise. For some reason, he had expected it to be some sort of castle, not unlike Vlad used to have, but it looked nice, tasteful. He looked at Sam questionably, and she shrugged, seemingly knowing what he was thinking.

"This house has been in his family for generations. He lives here alone with his grandmother, who is ancient. She's older than my grandmother. He's divorced, and I remember he has a son my age. My parents tried to get me to date him, but neither of us was interested."

Danny mercilessly suppressed a sudden pang of jealousy. Sam parked the car in front of the house and they got out, to be met at the door by an elderly man.

"Mr Fenton, Ms Manson?" he said, stepping back to let them in, "Mr Benedict is waiting for you in the library. Please follow me."

They followed him, Danny feeling a little uncomfortable in his jeans and t-shirt, but Sam obviously feeling quite in place with her black mini skirt, tight purple leggings and green sweater. Her combat boots didn't make a sound on the soft carpeting.

The door to the library was yanked open before they got to it, and a heavy set man with a balding head looked out into the hallway.

"Jensen, what's keeping them... oh, there you are. Come in, come in." He waved at his butler. "Go check on the caterers, please. Never trust them. Never. They always make a mess of things. Go on, go! Shoo!"

The butler turned around, face impassive, and walked away in the direction of what Danny assumed was the kitchen. He stepped into the library, followed by Sam, and casually looked around, automatically checking the windows, the door on the other side, and finally resting his eyes on the comfortable chair near the fire place.

The walls were completely covered with books, from the floor to the ceiling. A ladder was standing in the corner to reach the top most shelves, and the heavy drapes in front of the windows were still open, lighting part of the lawn at the back of the house. Other than that, darkness outside.

Deep inside him, Danny began to feel a slight tingling, a coldness, indicating that yes, there was something in the house. Something ghostly. He looked at Sam and nodded at her to indicate that there was indeed a problem. Then he turned to Mr Benedict and shook the man's meaty hand, introducing himself and Sam.

"Can you tell us what's happened?" he asked politely.

The man became agitated.

"It's the living room. It's all her fault, that old hag. She told me it's haunted, but there were never any problems, never! Nobody has ever seen a ghost there! And now she's gone, and this... thing, this apparition is there and it won't leave! And I have guests arriving at eight, and the GIW won't come for residential hauntings!"

He was fuming now, his face becoming red, and Danny worried that the man would have a heart attack. Sam just smirked.

"So, let me get this straight," Danny said, "Your grandmother has passed away and now there's a ghost in the living room?"

"No no no!" Mr Benedict almost shouted, "She's not dead! She's in a nursing home, where she belongs. And when she left, she said I'd regret it, because the house was haunted, but I thought she was joking. She was always like that, making up things, talking to people that weren't really there. And now it's there, and I need you to get rid of it."

Danny and Sam looked at each other and shrugged. Then Sam stepped forward and held out the standard disclaimer in front of him, which he took, read and then signed.

"Can we take a look?" Danny asked.

Mr Benedict rushed to the door, surprisingly quick for a man his weight, and led them through the hallway to another door.

"There," he said, pointing at the door, but not going any closer.

There was definitely something there. Danny felt his cold breath, and he turned away from Mr Benedict a little to hide the fact that he now looked like somebody out in the cold, not inside a large mansion in a temperature that was a little bit to warm for his liking.

Boldly, he walked to the door, opened it and peered inside, Sam following closely behind.

She was in the middle of the living room, floating above the couch. She was transparent, white, very ghostly looking, with long white hair waving in all directions and black holes for eyes. She looked like an old woman, her bony hands clasped together tightly as if wringing them. When she caught sight of them, she wailed.

Danny stepped into the room.

"Hi there," he said, "What's your name?"

The ghost stopped wailing and looked at him. He tried to look friendly at her. She seemed pretty harmless. A second later, he revised that opinion.

Suddenly right in front of him, her face almost pressed against his, she hissed at him.

"Whoa, lady, breath," he said, stepping back and waving his hand in front of his face.

She looked menacing from up close, her withering, decaying face showing the skull underneath, the cold she radiated chilling even him. He felt Sam shiver behind him, and he realized she had grabbed his arm.

"Thermos," he muttered to her, but before he could grab it, the ghost let out a loud shriek, plunged forward and slammed them both against the wall. Then she flew a couple of rounds through the living room, knocking things over. Danny raised his hand and fired an ecto blast through the ecto gun, which had been especially prepared for him to be always empty. Nobody knew what would happen if he were to fire through a live gun.

He hit her square in the chest and she was slammed backwards against the large mirror that hung over the fire place, which shattered. She hung still for a moment, shrieked again and then suddenly was gone.

Silence settled over the room. Both Sam and Danny were breathing heavily, scanning the room, looking at the walls she might appear through. Danny's breath, which had been pretty much steaming condensed air the entire time the ghost was in the room, warmed up somewhat. But not entirely.

"She's still somewhere in the house," he whispered.

He closed his eyes. Sometimes, if he cleared his mind and concentrated, he was able to sense a direction, if the ghost was close enough.

"Down," he muttered.

Abruptly, he turned around and yanked the door, which Mr Benedict had shut behind them, open, staring directly into the man's frightened face.

"You have a cellar?" Danny asked in a voice that told the man he expected full cooperation.

Mr Benedict tried to see past Danny into the living room to see the damage, but Danny grabbed his shoulders and turned him around.

"Cellar?"

Grumbling something, the man pointed at the end of the hallway, and Danny rushed to the door, leaving Mr Benedict to inspect his damaged living room. Sam followed closely behind, and reached the door almost at the same time he did. Slowly, carefully, he opened it and peered into the darkness. Sam reached past him and started feeling around the door frame for a light switch, which she found only moments later.

A single light bulb showed them a wooden staircase, leading down into a large space, mostly empty but for the shelves close to the stairs, which contained, as far as they could see, empty boxes for Christmas decorations. Danny felt his breath go cold again, and he slowly started to descend the stairs, pointing the gun forward. A soft sound on top of the stairs made him turn around, and he saw Mr Benedict standing there, an angry expression on his face.

"You trashed my living room," he said accusingly, "I have guests coming in twenty minutes!"

"Hush!" Sam whispered, "The ghost is here somewhere."

Danny ignored them. The steady stream of cold air from his lungs indicated a close proximity of the ghost, but he didn't see it. A sudden urge to transform into his ghost form almost overwhelmed him, to the point that he almost had the two white rings appear around his waist. With some difficulty, he suppressed it, but he could feel the energy crackling at his finger tips.

A mist appeared in the middle of the cellar, quickly taking shape, and Danny grabbed the thermos ans pointed it at it. The mist took the shape of a little girl.

"Mommy," she cried, "Where's my mommie? Where's Nana? Where's Judy? I want Judy!"

With that last sentence she suddenly thrust herself forward, and Danny activated the thermos. The ghost seemed to anticipate that however, because instead of charging at them, as Danny had expected, she went up and blew the light bulb. Sam fired at her, and the ghost shrieked when she was thrown backwards. Danny saw a flash of a young woman's face in the light of Sam's ecto blast, and then she was gone again.

They both stood still for a moment, listening, but the cellar remained silent and ghost free. Danny's breath had returned to normal, and he tried to relax somewhat by straightening, letting go of the fighting stance he had subconsciously assumed. His energy level was still way to high, and he quietly whispered into Sam's ear to turn off the Fenton Finder, as it would no doubt point at him at this moment.

Carefully, they made their way up again in the darkness, stumbling on the uneven ground and the steps of the stairs. Mr Benedict was waiting for them, a stern expression on his face.

"Do you know how expensive that vase was?" he asked them, "And that mirror above the fire place? It's an heirloom, my great grandmother had it installed there..."

"Mr Benedict," Sam said, "We didn't do that, it was the ghost. And you signed the agreement. We do not take responsibility for any damage done by either the ghost or our efforts to capture it. But if I may make a suggestion..."

She glanced at Danny, who shook his head and shrugged.

"You're having a dinner party. Let your guests in the library when they arrive, then go and have dinner in the dining room. That'll take hours. In the mean time, your personnel can make the living room habitable again. The ghost seems to be gone now, but we didn't capture it, so there's no guarantee it won't be back. Please call us if it does."

"Who's Judy?" Danny asked.

"I don't know," Mr Benedict said a little too quickly.

He started pushing them towards the front door. Bright lights shone through the windows for a moment, signifying the arrival of a car.

"Please go," Mr Benedict said, "Send me the bill, yes, the bill. And I want a thorough search for the ghost tomorrow, I need you to capture it, or destroy it, or whatever you do with it. Come at eleven."

The front door was opened by the butler, and Mr and Mrs Manson stepped into the hallway. They were happily chatting and taking off their coats, when they caught sight of their daughter and Danny.

"Samantha!" Mrs Manson cried out, "What on earth are you doing here? And why are you wearing those dreadful clothes to a dinner party? And what's that janitor doing here?"

Danny looked amused, but Sam got angry.

"Mother," she said frostily, "We're here on business. And you know perfectly well that this is Danny."

"Well," Mrs Manson said acidly, "I suggest you take him shopping then. You can't walk around with him like this."

Sam glared at her mother, grabbed Danny by his arm and dragged him out of the house, muttering to herself.

"I will, mother, you just won't like the result, is all."

They stepped into Sam's car and drove off through the gate, where they were met with more guests arriving. She turned the car into the direction of the Amity Park, and they drove in silence for a while, Sam still chewing on her mother's unkind remarks, Danny trying to control the energy that was soaring through is body. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Sam," he said, "I have to do something. See you later, OK?"

He finally let the two white rings transform him into Danny Phantom, and she looked at him.

"What was that all about, in that cellar?" she asked, "It looked like you were gonna transform right in front of Mr Benedict."

"I need to burn off some energy," he just said, about to phase out of the car.

"Wait!" Sam called after him, "Come to my apartment, I'll make you a decent, healthy dinner. And I have something to show you."

He just nodded and shot through the roof.

* * *

She arrived at her apartment at the edge of the park and found Tucker already there, behind both her computer and his laptop. He was playing the latest version of 'Doomed, Final Destruction' on hers, while simultaneously reading his email on his. 

"Hi, Tucker," she said, throwing her keys on the table and pulling an extra chair close to the desk, "Did you have a look at it?"

"Sure did," he said, without taking his eyes from the game, "Looks great, Sam. Hope he appreciates all the work you put into it."

"Yeah, well," she said, hesitating, "I just wish he'd told us sooner what he was going to do. We thought this whole ghost hunting idea up over a year ago, and then we hear nothing about it from him until suddenly he tells us he's rented a floor in an old house and can we go ahead. I would have had something prepared otherwise..."

Tucker paused his game and turned to her, pushing his glasses back on his nose.

"Took him three years to figure out that ghost hunting and college don't go together without us helping him keep his grades up. I've said it a million times, Sam, he's my best friend and I like him a lot, but he's clueless, stubborn and a tad selfish."

"He's not selfish," Sam said angrily, getting up from her chair, "Look at what he does for other people, for the town! And I still feel bad about abandoning him like that."

"Don't hit me!" Tucker said, shoving his long legs under his chair, "We didn't have much choice, remember?"

"Any reason in particular why Sam shouldn't hit you?" a disembodied voice asked from the other side of the room.

Danny Phantom shimmered into existence, grinning while he quickly transformed into his human form again, as to not drop the temperature of the room too much.

"Hey, Final Destruction!" he exclaimed, rushing over to the computer, "Where are you?"

Sam rolled her eyes and went into the kitchen, muttering to herself, but loud enough for her friends to hear her, that dinner didn't make itself. To her surprise, she was joined by Danny only moments later.

"Tucker's afraid the veggie burgers are gonna affect the computers, so he's safeguarding them," he said apologetically, "But I'll help you." He grabbed a knife. "I have no fear of cucumbers."

He waved the knife dangerously at her and she stepped back, frowning.

"Put that down, you moron. What's with you, anyway. You're so hyper you're almost blowing light bubs."

Danny shrugged, not really knowing how to explain the feeling he had.

"I know," he said, "Tucker sent me away because the computer screen got all wacky when I got near it. Maybe I need to burn off some more energy."

"Was it something in that house? Why did you try to transform in that cellar?" Sam asked, throwing three veggie burgers into a frying pan and pointing at the vegetables for Danny to cut.

Danny sighed. "Phantom hunts ghosts," he said, "Fenton runs away. When I hunt a ghost, I want to transform into something that is more equipped to deal with it. When I tried to suppress it, the transformation energy got held up somehow. I burnt off some of it by freezing lake Eerie, and then melting it again a couple of times."

He held up his hand and formed a small ecto ball above it, or at least, that was his intention, but instead it got bigger quickly until it was about the size of a football. Hastily, he cut off power to it, and it dissipated, leaving a faint smell of ozone in the kitchen.

"I shouldn't do that," he muttered.

He started cutting up the cucumber and the tomatoes, throwing them into the bowl Sam had given him. Behind them, Tucker appeared in the kitchen entrance, looking suspiciously at what they were making.

"So what's up with that ghost you guys were hunting?" he asked, "How come you didn't catch it? Are you going to try and catch it before you leave?"

Danny stopped cutting and turned around in surprise, noticing the annoyed look on Sam's face and the angry waving of her hands at Tucker.

"I'm not leaving," he said, "And yes, we're gonna try and catch it again tomorrow. Hopefully it stays away tonight, or the guy might not pay us."

He stared in the distance for a moment. "Maybe we should check the history of that house, find out who Judy is or was. It might help us track her down."

"I'll get on it after dinner," Tucker said, "But I thought your parents invited you over?"

He shot Sam a glance that conveyed both an apology and a self satisfied righteousness. Danny shook his head.

"I'm broke. Can't afford a plane ticket."

Sam froze and then turned to him, her eyes blazing.

"Don't you lie to us, Daniel Fenton. Your parents bought you a ticket, it's at the airport waiting for you."

He flinched. "How did you know?"

"Because they called me and invited me too. They wanted to make sure you came, and they knew that if they left it up to you, you wouldn't. What's the matter with you, Danny, why are you trying to push you parents away from you? I'd die for having parents like yours. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents, but they're so distant. Your parents love you, they'd do anything for you."

Danny stared at his friends, their worried, angry faces, and again wondered how he was going to explain it to them. They'd been away from Amity Park for years, only visiting during the holidays, and he had wanted those to be happy. The past year when they had been back, he had been out of his parents house as much as he could, always meeting at either Sam's or Tucker's apartment.

"It's complicated," he said, and then he vanished from sight.

"I hate it when he does that," Sam growled.

* * *

It was almost two hours later before Danny reappeared, contrite, humble and weary, this time not materializing in Sam's living room, but knocking at her door and waiting for her to open it. She stepped aside and let him in without a word. It took him almost an hour of groveling and enduring his friends' frosty stares before they forgave him. 

"Oh, alright," Sam said, after watching him clean up the table and the kitchen, putting everything into the dishwasher and washing the pan she had used, "I guess that's punishment enough. For now. But..." she pointed her finger at him, "Don't you ever go running out like that again. Got it?"

"I'm sorry," Danny said for the tenth time that evening, knowing he had been in the wrong, "I won't. I promise."

Tucker stuck his head around the door frame.

"Are you about finished?" he asked, "Because we have something to show you."

Danny threw the dishcloth on the counter and followed his friends into the living room to the computers. Tucker gestured at Sam.

"She first," he said.

Sam grinned, grabbed the mouse from Tucker and clicked an icon on the screen. A browser opened, showing a black background for about two seconds, and then a white, glowing sphere appeared in the middle, transforming itself to a ghost, growing until it covered the entire screen. Then a menu appeared, and glowing green letters, 'Specter Detectors Ltd.". A short text explained briefly who they were and what they were doing. Danny looked stunned.

"Wow," he said and then turned to Sam, "Did you do this? I thought you were working on the site for that department store in the mall..."

"Finished that one a week ago," she grinned, "Presentation is tomorrow. This, I did in my spare time. We can add more information to it, but I took the liberty of explaining a bit about ghosts. And our conditions and contact information is there as well."

She clicked a few links to show them. "We'll host it at my provider for now. I claimed Specterdetectors dot com."

"This is so going to work," Tucker said happily, "We'll be swarming in work after we bring this on line, you'll see."

"I hope so," Danny said, grinning, "We could use some work. Being a courier doesn't pay to well."

Thoroughly happy that his friends had accepted him back and had forgiven him, he leaned back into his chair, no longer feeling like a hyper charged battery. He had spent the two hours in their little training facility in the middle of the woods, and empty field only reachable by a bumpy road that shouldn't even carry that name, target practicing, dodging trees at high speed, going intangible at the last possible moments, and creating crude ice sculptures out of thin air. It had burned of energy and had brought him to his senses.

"OK," Tucker said, "Now look at this."

He opened several browser windows that showed information about Mr Benedict's house. Most importantly, a list of previous owners, several articles on fund raising parties that were held there, a great number of articles about Mr Benedict himself. But no 'Judy'.

"I guess we'll have to talk to Mr Benedict about this Judy," he said, "Or maybe the servants. Somebody must know who she is, she's the key."

Danny nodded. "We should talk to the man's grandmother too, he said she knew about the ghost, and it appeared after she left. What's her name, by the way? She must be over a hundred..."

Tucker clicked the screen and scrolled through a few documents, mumbling to himself as usual when he was searching for something. Then he stopped and shook his head.

"Nope. She's his grandmother from his father's side. Was born in that house ninety-nine years ago, married a Joseph Benedict. Her maiden name was McGrath, first name starts with an 'S'. So no 'Judy'."

"Well, we should talk to her anyway," Sam said, and then looked at the two men staring at her, "Oh no, not me. Presentation tomorrow morning, remember? And you need to do it before trying to find that ghost, Danny, so I guess it's up to you."

He nodded.

"I'll ask Angie which nursing home she's in. She'll know," he said, "Or she'll know somebody who knows. I doubt that Mr Benedict will tell us."

"The butler might," Sam said.

They were quiet for a while, and then decided to call it a day. Tucker packed his laptop and disappeared, muttering something about giving them some alone time, for which Danny mentally kicked him. He left soon after, feeling exhausted, flew directly into his small bedroom and transformed right above his bed. He was asleep before he hit the mattress.

* * *

It took him a while to recognize the music in his ears as his new ring tune. Stretching out his arm, he tried to reach for his phone, only to have it fall on the floor, where it continued playing 'Ghost Busters'. With a groan, he worked himself up on his arms and retrieved the thing from under his bed. 

"Hello," he muttered hoarsely, "I mean, Specter Detectors, this is Danny Fenton, how may I help you?"

"Danny!" a happy voice blared into his ear, "Did I wake you?"

He held the phone away from his ear, winced, and then put it back.

"Angie," he said, "What have you got?"

"Package. Needs to go from Axion Labs to Pierson and Sons, they want it at nine, you're closest. Can you do it?"

He glanced at his watch, which read eight twenty and then at his crumpled clothes in which he had slept. He'd save some time there.

"Sure," he said, getting up from the bed and stumbling into his bathroom, "And I have something to ask you too. Do you know Mr Benedict? Lives on..."

"Magnolia Drive," she finished, "Big man, does a lot for charity. Divorced, one son, who's some lawyer. What do you want to know?"

He grinned. "The grandmother, I want to know where she is."

"Ah, yes. Very old. I'll call you back on that, 'kay, I've got other calls waiting, and I don't remember exactly where he stashed her. Go Danny, or you'll be late!"

He made it, but only just. A reckless ride through town to Axion Labs, a nervous wait for the package at the gate, declining the security guard's invitation to wait inside as he did not want to run the risk of running into Vlad, and then a mad dash though town, going intangible about half the time, through buildings and traffic.

He called in to Angie at nine oh five, still panting, standing outside the small firm of Pierson an Sons.

"I don't know how you do it, Danny," she said happily, "And I've got something for you. Promise to buy me dinner and you'll get it."

"Alright," Danny said easily, "Dinner it is. I'll pick you up at your place at eight, that OK?"

She squealed and then read out the address of the nursing home.

* * *

Danny was glancing nervously at his watch, as he followed the nurse slowly through the pastel painted hallways. It was already past ten o'clock, and he was supposed to be at Mr Benedict's at eleven. He knew he had a reputation to be always late, and he wanted to change that. He also wished either Sam or Tucker was with him, but they both had other business to attend to. Their little ghost hunting business didn't make enough money for them to give up their other jobs, although technically Sam didn't really need to work. 

Finally, at the end of the long, sunny hallway, the nurse opened a door and let him into a comfortable looking room, furnished with oak furniture, an old fashioned green canopy and a hospital bed in the corner. A very old lady was sitting in a chair with a high back, holding a cane, glaring at him though her glasses.

"Hello Siubhan," the nurse said happily, "I have a visitor for you. This is Mr Danny Fenton. He is a friend of you grandson."

The old woman looked at Danny with piercing blue eyes, that didn't seem to have diminished their strength over the years.

"Hrrmpf," she said, "Richard has no friends."

The nurse seemed to be taken aback somewhat, and hastily made her retreat, leaving the explaining to Danny, who extended his hand. She ignored him, however, staring at him thoughtfully, until he lamely withdrew his hand and just stood there.

"Danny, huh," she said, "What kind of name is that? It's a little boy's name. Are you a little boy?"

"Eh, no, actually, it's Daniel, but..."

She didn't let him finish.

"Don't just stand there," she interrupted him, "Sit. Richard sent you. Too busy to visit his old grandmother, is he?"

"Um, well," Danny said, "Actually, I'm here because of the ghost in his house. Do you know anything about that?"

"What's that, a ghost?" She started cackling. "Oh, he found out, did he. Good for him. Idiot sent me away. That ought to teach him."

She quieted down and stared into space, seemingly looking right through him, and her eyes became unfocused. Then she started humming to herself, and Danny recognized an old nursery rhyme.

"Mrs Benedict?" he asked, "Could you tell me about the ghost? She seemed to be looking for 'Judy', do you know who she is?"

Suddenly, the old woman looked sad.

"Go away," she mumbled, "I don't want visitors. I want out of here. To the gate."

Danny shook his head, and again tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't say anything more. Disappointed, he left and flew to Richard Benedict's estate, arriving only two minutes late. Mr Benedict looked at his watch and then at Danny, who decided to ignore this obvious display of displeasure about being only two minutes late.

"Any more problems last night?" he asked the man, while getting out the Fenton Finder from his backpack.

Mr Benedict shook his head.

"No. But last night I heard something in the living room. I haven't gone in to look at it. Please get rid of this ghost, Mr Fenton, it's extremely upsetting."

Danny could tell that the only thing that Mr Benedict would find really upsetting was that word got out that the house was haunted. No more dinner parties, no more important people staying over, loss of status. He turned the Fenton Finder on, turned some knobs for show and then followed the overweight man into the house. Immediately, his ghost sense went of, producing a thing plume of condensed air from his mouth. He turned to Mr Benedict.

"It's better if I go and look for it by myself," he said, "Who else is in the house?"

"Jensen, the butler, and a cleaning lady, she's on the second floor. The gardener is outside."

Danny nodded and headed for the living room. He had no real plan, other than try and capture the ghost in his thermos. Not that that had worked really well the night before, but he was confident that he wouldn't be caught off guard again.

Slowly, he pushed the door open and peered into the living room for the second time. The same type of old fashioned canopy was standing in the middle of the room, accompanied by two small side tables. The heavy drapes were now open, allowing the sunlight to pour into the room, lighting several paintings, mostly with people on it wearing long dresses and high hats. It reminded him a little bit of his own grandmother's house.

He stepped inside, sensing the ghost in there, but she remained invisible. Out of his mouth now came a steady stream of cold air, and he put the Fenton Finder on one of the side tables, as it distracted him. Then he closed his eyes, and tried to find a direction.

He wasn't really sure how he did it, but he could picture her now, sitting on the canopy, looking at him. Quickly, he opened his eyes again and stared at the spot he knew she was.

"Hello," he said softly, "We didn't start off very well last night. I'm Danny. What's your name?"

He sat down opposite from her, hoping she'd show herself and he'd be able to suck her in, but she obviously knew better than to do that. Whoever she was, she wasn't dumb.

"Who are you looking for?" Danny tried, "Who is Judy? Maybe I can help?"

Again silence at first, but then, suddenly, a hoarse, whispering voice that sent a chill down his spine.

"Judy... my sister... Judy! What did you do with her!"

Something hit him, hard, and he was thrown sidewards from chair he was sitting on. Something cold grabbed him by the neck and started squeezing, so he brought up his hands and grabbed her invisible arms and let out a small ecto blast.

That took her by surprise, because she let go of him and yelped in pain, becoming visible briefly. Danny caught a glimpse of the face of a young woman, distorted with rage, charging at him. He braced for impact, held out his hands and slammed her backwards, using only a little of his ghost powers, as he had a feeling Mr Benedict was watching from the door. The ghost glared at him, suddenly changed into an old woman and disappeared from sight.

She was still there though, his ghost sense was still going haywire. He was just debating himself if he would dare close his eyes again to try and find her with his ghost sense, a not very reliable capability that didn't work under duress, when he felt it. Cold fingers, hands, touching hims, digging into his skin, a cold breath at the base of his skull. Then a cold presence sliding into him, and he realized with a start he was being overshadowed.

"Get. Out," he hissed, struggling for control.

He didn't think he should have much trouble with ghosts that tried to overshadow him, but he had no real experience with it. In fact, the last time a ghost had even attempted it was when Pointdexter had done it ten years ago. And he had succeeded...

Danny suddenly wondered if it was even possible to resist an overshadowing attempt. The ghost that was trying to overshadow him wasn't very strong, but she was very skilled, pushing at his weak spots, seemingly yielding when he pushed back, only to wiggle her way in in another place. Danny groaned. Then he remembered how his father had fought Vlad when he had overshadowed him. He braced himself, and pushed with all his might. Then, uncaring whether Mr Benedict would see or not, he turned his arm intangible and reached inside of himself, pushing the ghost out.

She shrieked in anger and disappointment, hovered in front of him for a moment while he tried to recover, and then disappeared, this time out of the room, because his ghost sense stopped producing cold air. Gasping for air, he let himself sink on the couch.

"Well," Mr Benedict said impatiently from the door, "What are you waiting for? Go after her!"

"In a minute," Danny said, "Lemme catch my breath."

To say he was shocked by the overshadowing attempt was an understatement. He was shaken to the core of his being, for the first time experiencing how easy it was for a skilled ghost to take him over, even now that he had become so much more powerful than ten years ago. It had nothing to do with strength. You only needed to know what you were doing, where to push. And he was a pushover. If it hadn't been for his ghost powers, he would have been helpless. Unlike his father, who had managed to push Vlad, the powerful Vlad, partially away a couple of times, so he could warn them.

Slowly, he got up from the couch and walked past Mr Benedict into the hallway, picking up the Fenton Finder on the way. He aimlessly stared at the dials and knobs, while trying to sense if the ghost was still in the house. He knew she was close, but at this moment, he couldn't sense any direction at all.

"I'll check the house," he said, "But she seems to be gone again. If she's hiding, it will be very hard to find her."

He turned to Mr Benedict.

"It would be easier if I knew why she was here. She's looking for her sister. Are you sure you don't know anybody by the name of 'Judy'?

Mr Benedict shook his head, looking annoyed.

"I told you," he said, "There's nobody with the name 'Judy' in the house, nor has there been anybody bearing that name."

Danny sighed. "What about your grandmother," he tried, "Would she know? The ghost appeared after she left, and you said she'd warned you about it. Are you sure she didn't tell you anything else?"

"That old hag," Mr Benedict fumed, "Always talking to herself, always embarrassing me with her imaginary friends like a little girl. It's just as story she made up! She invented that ghost, and now it's real! It's unfair!"

"Imaginary friends," Danny pressed on, ignoring Mr Benedict's strange reasoning, "Could it be that she was talking to that ghost? Is the ghost looking for her? Did you grandmother have a sister?"

"No she didn't," Mr Benedict said indignantly, "And I'm sure I would know if she did. My grandmother's name isn't 'Judy'."

Danny decided to leave it at that for the moment, and after telling Mr Benedict to wait for him in the library, he checked every room of the house, feeling strangely vulnerable. The suspicious cleaning lady upstairs followed him around while he was there, obviously unable to figure out why a man needed to check every single room, walking around with his eyes closed.

He ran into the butler in the kitchen, reading the newspaper while waiting for the coffee to run through the coffee maker, and he offered Danny a cup when it was finished. Danny gladly accepted, chatted some with the elderly man, and asked him if he knew anything about a 'Judy', but the butler just shook his head.

"We have a Julie," he said pensively, "She's the maid. Judy... comes from 'Judith', maybe?"

"We already checked that," Danny said, holding his large mug of steaming hot coffee, "When did that ghost first appear? Have you ever seen it?"

Jensen shook his head. "No," he said, "Can't say that I have. But I've noticed that the living room is sometimes inexplicably cold, even in summer. Could that mean anything?"

"Since when?"

"Since forever. I've worked here for twenty years. The old Mrs Benedict has always been a bit... different. But she's old, I suppose, she was old even when I started here. But back then she didn't talk to herself that much."

"She talks to herself? What does she say?"

The butler shook his head again. "Don't know. She always stopped when I came into the room."

A suspicion started to rise inside his mind. Mrs Benedict talked to the ghost. The ghost was looking for the old lady, of that he was sure. The only thing he needed to do now was find the connection. He thanked the butler, left his business card and asked him to call if anything else came to mind that could help them and then left to finish his round.

Having saved the cellar for last, he did a thorough search there, and although his ghost sense was tingling in the back of his throat, he found nothing. The empty boxes that had held the Christmas decorations were still there, as were a few other boxes, on which somebody had written 'Crap' with large, sloppy letters. He stared at them for a moment, trying to figure out how that could have meaning to it all, and then let it go. He really needed to talk to Sam and Tucker, because he couldn't figure it out.


	3. Episode 2: Christmas Mayhem, part 2

* * *

**SPECTER DETECTORS LTD**

**Episode 2: Christmas Mayhem**

**Part 2**

* * *

Sam threw her keys on the table as usual and stopped to listen for a bit, trying to determine whether either Danny or Tucker, who had a habit of wandering in and out her apartment, was around. She had given Tucker a key and had told Danny to come in at will, saying something along the line of 'mi casa e su casa', and they had taken that literally. She often found one or even both of them lounging in her living room, watching TV, or scorching her kitchen for something to eat. Although Tucker stayed away from her food as much as possible. She had strictly forbidden them to bring any meat into the house. 

Silence greeted her, however, and kicking off her shoes, not combat boots this time but some low heeled pumps, she made her way to her bedroom to change into something more comfortable. Being a goth was nice, but showing up like one at a business meeting was... well, bad for business. And she did want to get the web site she had worked so hard on accepted.

Quickly, she changed into her short black skirt, dark green sweater and the fish net stockings she had caught Danny staring at a few times. For a moment, she wondered what she was doing, why she was still hanging around him, hoping that one day he would see her and quit running after other women, but then she dismissed it. It didn't matter. She was as obsessed with him as he was with his ghost fighting, and if it meant that she would have to be only his friend to be close to him, so be it. But it couldn't hurt to encourage him just a little bit.

A loud 'Sam, you home?' brought her out of her pensive mood, and she walked back to the living room to find Danny standing there, looking around. To her satisfaction, she saw his eyes almost automatically wander to her legs, stay there for a moment and then move away as if he had to force himself to look elsewhere. Encouragement indeed.

"How'd it go?" he asked her, referring to her meeting.

"Good," she said, "They accepted it. How'd you fare this morning?"

He let himself drop on the couch and sighed.

"I don't know," he said, "I went to see that old lady, but I didn't really get anything from her. She's a bit... different. Not quite there anymore, if you know what I mean. And then I went to the house again, but she escaped me again."

Something was off, she could see that, and she waited for him to continue and explain.

"How did she get away?" she asked.

He waved his hand.

"She just did. I checked the whole house, but the only place I could feel something was the cellar, but very faint. She's hiding somewhere. If we could just find out who she was, we'd be able to tell where she's hiding, I just know it. She only shows up either in the living room or the cellar, it has to be something in there."

Sam got up, grabbed her small notebook and opened it.

"Judy," she said, "A name, that's all we have."

Danny nodded. "She also mentioned today that it was her sister. I asked Mr Benedict about it, but he insists that his grandmother didn't have a sister. But I'm sure the ghost means the old Mrs Benedict when she talks about 'Judy', her 'sister'. The butler told me she often seemed to talk to herself, but what if she was talking to that ghost? And it appeared to other people only when she left to that nursing home, angry and looking for her sister. There must be a connection."

Sam nodded. "I have time today. I think I'll head over to the registry office and have a look. I hope they go back a hundred years, but I think they do. And I'll call Geoffrey, Mr Benedict's son. He lives in Amity Park, I think he's some kind of lawyer. Maybe he'll shed some light on this."

Danny gave her a strange look and then looked away.

"Alright," he said, getting up and stretching, "I'll head back to the office then, and have another look at the portal. I really need to release those ghosts, or I'll have a full blown war on my hands when I finally release them."

Sam looked at the nervous twitch near his left eye and again wondered what he wasn't telling her. She realized that no matter how hard they had tried in the past year, there was still a rift between them, Danny having stayed in Amity Park, and Tucker and her moving away. He was keeping things from them.

"Danny," she said, "Why don't you want to see your parents?"

He hadn't expected that. He stared at her in surprise, blinking, and she could see his mind working to come up with an acceptable explanation. She wondered if it was something like the stealing of the ghost portal.

"Remember when I told you my parents had caught Ember?" he asked.

She frowned and then nodded. "That was years ago...you freed her, didn't you? And your parents then started to really hunt you? Is that why you hate them?"

"I don't hate them. But you see..." He hesitated. "It wasn't Phantom who freed Ember. They had a ghost shield around the lab. It was _Fenton_ who set her free. They haven't trusted me since."

He looked lost and alone, and she felt like hugging him. But before she could step closer to him, he stepped back, pulling up a wall between them.

"And working for the GIW doesn't help either," he said grumpily.

"They're not working for the GIW, they're working for the University of Wisconsin," Sam said irritably.

"But they are funded by the GIW," he said stubbornly.

She had nothing to say against that, so she remained quiet for a while, taking in the stony expression on his face.

"Um," she said, "Will I... will we see you tonight? We're supposed to work on the portal, remember?"

He shook his head.

"Nope. Dinner with Angie. I'll drop by afterwards."

At that, he left, shifting into Danny Phantom in a flash and then phasing through the wall, leaving her speechless and angry.

* * *

Tucker had been working on the ghost portal since he got off from work, double checking the wiring Danny and Sam had done, finding very few mistakes this time. They were getting better at it. Still, there were some mistakes, so his double checking remained necessary, but the portal really started to look like it's old self again. He was just about to screw the ecto filter back in place when he felt the basement go cold, signifying that either Danny had come in or some ghost was bold enough to enter. And since there were very few ghosts who actually dared to come close to Danny anymore, he didn't turn around, but just said 'Hi, Danny' to the seemingly empty space. 

Danny came into view, grinning happily, his green eyes sparkling. Tucker wondered what had gotten him so happy. He looked around.

"Where's Sam?"

Tucker looked at him and shrugged. "Went out. Dinner with that Benedict guy, the son, not the father."

"What!"

With some amusement, Tucker watched his friend as the expression on his face changed from happiness to annoyance.

"You mean," Tucker said, "That it's perfectly alright for you to go out with a pretty girl, but she has to wait at home like a good little girl? Get real, Danny, if you want her, just ask her."

"I don't want her. I just wanted to know what she found out at the registry office. What time is it? Why isn't she back yet?"

Tucker looked at his watch.

"It's one AM. And you're pretty late too, mister. She called. She just went home to get some sleep, like a normal person."

"I'm not a normal person."

"Neither is she, but you just won't see that. I'm going, Danny, I checked the wiring, there were only two minor mistakes, good job there. And you'll have to give some thought about what we're gonna fill the ecto filter with."

Danny didn't seem to hear him, instead staring moodily at the pictures on the wall, one of which was a picture of the three of them, standing at the front door, pointing at the sign reading 'Specter Detectors Ltd'.

"Danny?"

The ghost tore his eyes free from the picture and stared at him, his eyes burning.

"What?" he said.

Tucker sighed. "I'm going. I'm leaving for New Orleans with my parents tomorrow, remember? And I asked you to try and think of a way to get the ectoplasm for the ecto filter."

"Oh." Danny glanced at the thermoses on the shelf, a worried expression on his face. "Don't worry about the ectoplasm, I've got plenty."

Tucker nodded, hesitated for a moment and then just waved goodbye and left through the hatch.

* * *

She didn't know what woke her, but suddenly Sam was wide awake. It was chilly in her room, an uncommon chill... a ghostly chill. Keeping her breathing even, not moving, giving the impression she was still asleep, she slowly opened one eye a little bit and peered through her eyelashes. The only thing she saw was the vague shape of her night stand, the chair that contained her clothes, thrown on haphazardly, and part of the wardrobe. All looking fine. 

Except she shouldn't be able to see them. Her curtains were closed, they kept the room dark even when the sun was shining on them, it should be pitch dark in her room. Instead, there was a soft glow. She felt anger rise in her, and she was just about to call out, when it disappeared, keeping her blinking in the darkness.

She got up, reached unerringly for the ecto gun that was beside her bed and tiptoed to the door to the hallway. Slowly, very carefully, she opened it and peered outside. The apartment was quiet, the soft moonlight shining in from her living room. Lowering the gun somewhat, she walked down the hallway, passing her front door and the kitchen and stepped into the living room. Quiet. Clean. Empty. A small white note on the table.

She picked it up, read it and started cursing very unladylike. Her mother would have a fit. Then she ran back to her bedroom, grabbed the first thing that was in her closet and started dressing, without bothering to take off her pajamas.

"That idiot," she grumbled, "That moron. What does he think he's doing!"

She pressed a button on her cell phone, set it on speaker and continued to put on her pants, hopping around the room.

"Hello?" a sleepy Tucker said, "Sam? It's three AM, what..."

"Get your but over here," she yelled at him from across the room, "We're going to Vlad's. Danny has gone to his portal to empty the thermoses."

She heard him use the same colorful language she had used minutes before, and then he hung up. She grabbed the make-shift holster she had made for the ecto gun and put it on, then strapped the wrist gun to her right wrist, struggling with the straps with her left hand and ran into her hallway, grabbing a coat and pulling it over her dark sweater and the gun. She looked a bit bulky this way, but at least she had her hands free.

The door slammed behind her as she ran into the hallway and then down the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator. She would have to wait on the street though, it would take Tucker at least fifteen minutes to get to her, and that was without taking time to get dressed. She looked at her watch. Ten minutes had passed already since she found the note. Probably fifteen since Danny left. Another ten extra for Tucker to arrive here, and then another fifteen minutes to get across town to Vlad's mansion, something that would have taken at least half an hour in the daytime. Forty minutes in total. Plenty of time for Danny to get himself in trouble. Or worse.

Hopping on the sidewalk, looking at her watch every ten seconds, she waited for Tucker in his car. She would have taken her own, but it was in the shop to fix a minor problem, and now she seriously was considering buying a second car, just for occasions like this. It was only principle that stopped her. Two cars for one person... then again, she could only drive one at the time. A second car it was.

Screeching tires alerted her to Tucker's arrival, and he stopped right in front of her, throwing the door on the passenger side open. She threw herself into his car and he was off again before she had closed the door.

Tucker had an angry, but determined expression on his face.

"I'm gonna kill him," he said, "I worked on the portal half the night while he was out having fun, and I'm leaving at nine tomorrow, scratch that, today." He turned to shoot her a glance. "How'd you know, anyway?"

"He left a note saying what he was going to do, and that he was coming back before seven to retrieve it. If it was still there when I woke, something went wrong. I heard him, but he had left before I could catch him at it."

She didn't say he had been in her room, looking at her sleeping. They didn't speak after that, Tucker concentrating on his driving through the empty streets, Sam brooding over the fact that Danny seemed to be making a habit of wandering into her bedroom, although she had told him a couple of times that particular room in her house was off limits. Finally, they turned into the posh neighborhood with the large houses where Vlad lived. Everything was dark and quiet, save for one house at the end of the lane, which was brightly lit.

* * *

Danny hovered above his house, looking around, trying to find the ghost that has set off his ghost sense. The fact that he didn't see it made him very wary. For a ghost to set off his ghost sense at great distance, it needed to be powerful, way more powerful than the weak ghosts that normally haunted houses and stayed in one place, like the ghost at the Benedict mansion. He only sensed her when she was very close. 

"Ember," he thought, looking around frantically, "Or Desiree, or..."

A powerful blast threw into the nearest building.

"Merry Christmas, whelp."

"Or Skulker," Danny said sourly, peeling himself from the building and immediately diving sidewards to evade another blast.

"Would you quit calling me that," he shouted at the metallic ghost, "And what about the Christmas truce?"

Skulker held up his right arm, and no less than two rocket launchers appeared on his upper arm, both pointing at Danny.

"Oh great," he muttered, "An upgrade."

"No truce yet, whelp," Skulker smirked, "And I thought I needed something to decorate my Christmas tree with. Your hide will do nicely."

At that, he launched both rockets straight at Danny, who watched in horror as they closed in on him. He could evade, but that would mean that the rockets would hit his house, with old Mr Finley sleeping on the top floor. Not good. Instead, he created a shield, the strongest he could come up with, and hoped it was enough. And it almost was.

Both rockets detonated on impact with the shield, and he was thrown backwards to the ground forty feet below. He hit the street like a comet, causing a crater at least twenty feet across, and he laid there for a moment, stunned and deafened. Skulker floated closer and landed at the edge of the crater.

"This," Danny thought groggily, "Needs to stop."

He closed his eyes and feigned unconsciousness, letting the two rings appear and going human, as Skulker knew he would. Feeling vulnerable and exposed, he peered through his eyelashes, watching as the bulky ghost drifted closer and closer, wary, trying to discern if he really was unconscious. He kicked Danny painfully in the gut and he managed to bite back a groan, staying as immobile as possible.

Satisfied now, Skulker retracted his big cannons and bend over to pick Danny up, only to stare into two ice blue eyes that became even colder when he shot the ice beam at the hunter, freezing his baffled expression in place instantly. Slowly, painfully, Danny got up and studied the now frozen ghost, knowing he wouldn't stay frozen for long. Skulker's eyes were moving frantically, looking for a way out. Danny looked up and down the street and then at the windows overseeing the battle scene and decided he'd need to transform somewhere out of sight.

He ran to his house, phased through the door, transformed into Phantom in a flash and then dove through the floor to retrieve the last empty thermos. By the time he got back, Skulker was already halfway freeing himself, so he quickly sucked him into the thermos. The street remained quiet. He couldn't believe nobody had woken up from the explosion, until he remembered that the people in this neighborhood had learned that it was safer to mind their own business. Explosions outside? Not their business. That didn't mean he didn't need to get out of there.

Invisible and intangible, he again entered his basement and placed the thermos next to the three full ones. He now had a serious problem. He wasn't sure, but he thought the Christmas truce would require of him to set them all free. And he didn't need any more problems. Walker after his hide wasn't something to be taken lightly, even if he could easily beat the annoying prison warden. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder.

Other than that, it was imperative that he didn't keep the ghosts inside a thermos for too long. Especially Skulker. He'd have a full blown war on his hands if the ghosts inside the thermoses started working together to get him. The three thermoses that were full contained only weak ghosts. Skulker however...

He sighed. He had put it off far too long, hoping they would get the portal up and running soon. He looked at it. They had done a good job on it, but it was nowhere near operational. And Tucker was leaving in the morning. It'd be at least a week before they could think of starting it up.

He floated to the shelf, picked up the four thermoses and put them in his backpack that was laying in a corner. It was two thirty AM, surely Vlad would be asleep? He would go in, release the ghosts, go out again, no problem. But in case there was a problem, he would leave a note telling his friends were he was.

Satisfied that he had covered everything, he floated out of the house again and headed over to Sam's apartment. It was completely dark, as he had expected, and he decided to check up on her, to see if she got home safely. She had forbidden him to come into her bedroom, but surely there was no harm in some brotherly checking up on her?

He looked down on her sleeping form, huddled under the blankets in the completely dark room. Only his own soft glow lighted her face, which had a peaceful expression on it. He wondered who he was kidding.

Tearing his eyes away, he drifted out of her room again, placed the note on the table in the living room where she would find it if he was late, and then shot through the roof of her top floor apartment.

It took him only a few minutes to reach Vlad's mansion on the other side of town. The place was dark and had a deserted look about it. Danny wondered if Vlad was even there, he hadn't seen him around lately. That didn't mean much, though, because they usually avoided each other. The former mayor of Amity Park kept to himself, mostly, and Danny made a point of not getting in the man's way as long as he stayed away from his mother.

He went through the door and silently landed in the hallway, looking around, his senses peaked. He wasn't sure, but he didn't think Vlad had a ghost sense like he did. He'd be safe for a little while. Then he noticed the boxes, stacked in the hallway near the door, ready to be hauled outside. Curious, he floated to the living room, to find it half empty. The couch was still there, but the paintings were removed from the wall, leaving white rectangles where they had hung. Boxes here to, and the shelves on the wall were empty.

"Vlad's moving?" Danny muttered in surprise.

"Yes, Daniel, I'm moving out of Amity Park," an arrogant voice sounded behind him.

Danny cursed softly under his breath and turned around to face his arch enemy, berating himself for his carelessness in enemy territory.

"To what," Vlad said to him, "Do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Cut the crap, Vlad," Danny growled, "You hate me, I hate you, let's leave it at that. I just came by because I have four full thermoses and I need to empty them before Christmas. Since I don't have a portal, I was gonna use yours. But I guess I'll have to do it some other time then. Bye."

He shot up through the ceiling, failing to see the small remote Vlad had in his hand. The billionaire just smiled and pressed a button. Danny hit the ceiling with a loud thunk and bounced back to the floor.

"Ghost shield," Vlad smirked, and then he blasted Danny with a pink ecto blast, morphing into Plasmius as he did that.

If Danny hadn't been hit by Skulker earlier, he probably could have taken the blast and be up in a second. As it was, Vlad managed to hit him on the exact same spot where Skulker had hit him before, in his right shoulder. A blinding pain shot through him and the room swarmed around him He felt his ghost form slip away from him as he fell to the floor, managing to hit his head on the side table in the process.

For a while, everything seemed to be far away from him. He wasn't completely unconscious, but he couldn't figure out what was going on, or who was talking to him. Someone was yanking him up and throwing him onto something soft, and then he felt his hands pulled backwards and taped together.

Slowly, everything came back into focus, and he realized he was laying on the couch on his left side, his face pressed on the fabric, his arms tied behind his back. Then Vlad came into view, holding a familiar device.

"No!" he screamed, too late, because Vlad cruelly held it against his already injured shoulder and pressed the button, shocking him and effectively disabling his ghost powers for three hours.

"Good," Vlad said, sitting down on the chair opposite from Danny, looking down on him, "Now that I have your attention. You are not to enter into my house at will. It's called trespassing. I don't care about your little ghost troubles or your pathetic little ghost hunting company. You're a failure, Daniel, you disappointed your mother and more importantly, you disappointed me. Look at you. You're a slacker, a thief, you can't finish anything you start and you're helpless without your friends."

He leaned closer.

"Take my advice, Daniel. Leave Amity Park. Shut down your stupid business. Learn how to be responsible. Grow up."

Danny glared at him. "Are you finished?" he asked.

He struggled with the tape for a moment, and then laid still again. It had been ten years since he had been disabled like that by Vlad's Plasmius Maximus, and it sucked.

"So this is what it's like to be human again," was a thought that shot through his head.

He was shocked at himself. He was human, right? Then why didn't he think himself to be one? Because he wasn't? The only other like him was sitting in a chair, staring at him with red eyes, waiting.

"What do you want?" Danny asked.

Vlad shook his head, let the two black rings transform him back into Vlad Masters and sighed theatrically.

"Daniel, Daniel," he said, "You know what I want. I haven't changed my goals. That's why I'm moving back to Wisconsin. No point in staying here if Maddie isn't here, is it. My castle has been rebuilt for the second time."

He glared at Danny for a moment. "I'm actually quite close to the university of Wisconsin, where, I believe, a certain someone is doing research for the government."

Danny closed his eyes. Vlad, close to his mother again, he should have seen it coming. He opened his eyes again and glared, trying to let his eyes flash green, but of course he couldn't.

"My, my," Vlad said, "You have quite a glare for somebody who's helpless on a couch with his hands tied behind his back."

"Let me go, Vlad," Danny said, trying not to plead, "You don't want me, I'm a failure, you said so yourself."

Vlad tsked. "No reason not to start anew though," he said, "Come with me, and I'll make sure you'll get a decent job in one of my companies. In time, with the proper education, you'll be able to climb up quickly, with my backing, and we can work together. I'm not getting any younger, and it's time I started training my heir. Think of what we can achieve..."

Danny started laughing. "You're nuts," he said, gasping for air, "What's the matter with you, anyway, that you can't take a no, two nos, for an answer. Neither me nor my mother want you, however powerful and wealthy you are. We like our lives, however pathetic it may seem to you. At least, it's our own life, not owned by you."

Vlad's face contorted in rage for a moment, but then he seemed calm again.

"Very well," he said, getting up.

He walked over to Danny, yanked his arms up none to gently and cut him free with a small pocket knife. Danny groaned as his shoulder was twisted again, and then sat up slowly, rubbing his wrists.

"You can deposit your pathetic catch into my portal," Vlad said, "Although I must warn you that your thermoses won't fit on my deposit device. You'll have to go into the ghost zone and release them there. I suggest that when you do that, to be prepared to make a run for it."

Vlad held up his hand when Danny tried to say something.

"I have a condition."

"I knew it," Danny grumbled.

"I want something from you. You'll need to do something for me. I'll tell you what it is when I need it."

Danny pondered this for a moment. It was a risk. If he agreed, Vlad could ask anything from him. But he really needed to empty the thermoses. His eyes shot through the room, taking in it's half packed state, never resting in one place for more than two seconds. There had to be a way out of this. Then he looked at Vlad again, who was looking at him patiently.

"Nothing illegal," he said warningly, "No... spying on people, no overshadowing, no... I dunno. Nothing that would go against my morals."

Vlad arched an eyebrow. "Morals," he said, folding his hands in front of him, "Now that is an interesting subject. You mean to say you've never overshadowed someone?"

Danny was silent.

"You're not so different from me after all, are you Daniel," Vlad said, "Think about it. But alright, I won't ask anything from you that would go against your morals, however shaky they are."

He got up and pointed at the backpack that contained the four thermoses, still laying on the floor. Danny got up too.

"Come back tomorrow, when you have your powers back," Vlad said, "And I'll grant you access to my portal. In fact, as long as I'm here, you can come and deposit ghosts into the ghost zone. All I ask of you is that you call me in advance and properly knock at the door."

Danny nodded, not knowing what else to do. Vlad walked him to the door and opened it, to stare directly into the face of Sam Manson, her right hand balled into a fist, about to pound on the door and demand access. She stepped back in surprise when she saw the two of them.

"Ah, Miss Manson," Vlad said, "How good of you to come and get Daniel. It's a long walk home, after all. Ta!"

Before he knew it, Danny was standing outside, the front door closing behind him with a soft click. His friends glared at him.

"Not you too," he muttered and tried to walk past them.

Tucker caught him when he stumbled, and he leaned on his friend, feeling weak, all the adrenaline that had kept him going all night suddenly leaving him. Sam grabbed his right arm and he yelped in pain, jerking his arm away from her.

"Not there," he groaned.

She said nothing, but instead turned around, walked back to Tucker's car and opened the door to the back seat. Tucker shoved him inside and Sam crawled in next to him.

"Let's go to my place," Sam said, "I have a better first aid kit."

Tucker drove in silence, more careful this time, as there was no rush anymore. Danny leaned in his seat and let his head fall backwards. Twenty minutes later they entered Sam's apartment, Danny under his own steam this time, insisting that he was fine and didn't need help.

"I'll be the judge of that," Sam said sternly and then ordered him to take off his shirt.

He did so, wincing when he had to take out his right arm, and curtly said 'Plasmius Maximus', when Tucker asked why he didn't just phase it off. He sat backwards on one of Sam's chairs, leaning forward a bit as she examined him with her cool hands.

"Looks fine to me," she said, "A bit bruised."

Tucker snorted.

"Compared to what he usually gets, it's minor," Sam said.

She handed him back his shirt, but he didn't feel like pulling it on over his shoulder again, so he just held it in his hands. Tucker looked at his watch.

"Look," he said, "I gotta go. It's four thirty, my plane leaves at nine, I got almost no sleep last night and I need to pack. You two behave yourselves. Merry Christmas."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and left. Sam sighed.

"Look," she said, "Go lay down in the guest room, you look exhausted. We'll talk in the morning, alright? I promise I won't bite your head off."

She stumbled away from him, looking exhausted herself, and he felt guilty for a moment for getting her involved. Then he got up as well and made his way to the guest room. He only needed to sleep for a little while, and then his ghost powers would be back. He yearned for them and felt an almost physical pain for not having them.

He dropped down on the bed and closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come for a long time. Vlad's words kept going through his mind, telling him he was a failure, a disappointment. Telling him his morals were just as questionable as those of the power hungry billionaire. And he was wondering how much truth there was in these words.

* * *

It was the scent of fresh coffee that awoke him from his slumber, and he opened his eyes slowly, trying to see where he was. The room was dark because of the closed curtains, but light shone in through the open doorway. Someone had opened his door so he would smell the coffee. 

Groaning, he pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed, rolling his shoulders. His right shoulder was still stiff, but it was already healing. Tomorrow he wouldn't feel a thing anymore. Tomorrow would be Christmas.

He held out his hand in front of him and let it glow green, smiling to himself. The feeling of raw power, at his disposal to use whenever he liked it, made him feel whole again. One day he would blast that aggravating device that took away his powers to pieces. But first, there was the coffee.

He stumbled out of his room, through the hallway to Sam's kitchen, where she was sitting at the table with a mug of coffee, reading the newspaper.

"Hi, sleepyhead," she said, "How's the shoulder?"

"You made coffee," he said, rolling his shoulders to demonstrate he was fine.

She pointed at the coffeemaker on the counter and then at the mug standing next to it. He poured himself some and then sat down next to her, leaning in a bit to catch the headlines of the newspaper she was reading. They sat in silence for a while, drinking their coffee.

"OK," Sam said after a while, "Now explain yourself. What did you think you were doing last night?"

He stared at his mug. "I really needed to empty those thermoses," he said, "Vlad's portal was the only possibility. I thought I could sneak in without him noticing. Guess I was wrong."

"And you decided to do that without telling us?"

"I did tell you. You were sleeping. I didn't see any need to wake you, that's why I left the note." He looked at his backpack, thrown into a corner. "I caught Skulker last night. Can't have him sitting in that thermos for too long, or he'll hunt me non stop, instead of only sometimes when he gets bored and thinks his newest upgrade will do the trick."

Sam looked pensive, processing the information, finding no flaw in his reasoning other than his refusal to wake her.

"Danny, I would really appreciate it if you stayed out of my bedroom," she said, changing the subject.

He started. "How did you know?" He asked.

"I wasn't sleeping, you moron. I thought you were some strange ghost, haunting me, so I went after you. You're lucky I didn't shoot you. Only when I found the note, I realized it was you."

He was silent and stared at his mug again, avoiding her eyes.

"Alright," he said dejectedly, "I'll stay out of your room. But I just wanted to check if you were alright, you didn't come my place after your date and..."

"You were checking up on me," she said, her eyes blazing, "Tell me, Danny, what would you have done if I hadn't been alone? Don't you realize how humiliating that is, when you enter my room at will? How can I have any privacy when I don't know if you're there or not, watching?"

He paled.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't think... I shouldn't have... I was just worried, alright?"

She sighed. "Look," she said, "Let's just forget this, alright? Just don't do it again, I don't like it."

He nodded, and again an uncomfortable silence fell over them. Danny stared out of the window to the overcast sky and the icy whiteness of the trees in the park. Then he turned back to his friend.

"Did you find out anything yesterday?" he asked.

"Yes, I did," she exclaimed, "A lot, actually. Come on, I made notes, I'll show you."

She grabbed his arm and dragged him into the living room, pushing him on the couch. Then she took out her notebook and started flipping pages.

"Beathas and Siubhan McGrath, born ninety-nine years ago, here in Amity Park, in the same house she was still living in until recently, twins. Mr Benedict said his grandmother didn't have a sister, and he's right, but she used to have one. She died at the age of eight, drowned in the pond behind the house."

She pulled out a copy of an old newspaper clipping.

"After I went to the registry office, I went to the Amity Park Gazette, because they're the oldest newspaper in town. Their records go back a hundred years, and I dug through them and found it."

The article described the tragic death of Beathas McGrath, age eight, in the pond. She had been ice skating, but the ice hadn't been strong enough and she had been stuck under the ice for several minutes before her father could get her out. They had brought her into the house, where she had died.

"That's it," Danny said, "They brought her into the living room, she died there, that's why she's there. But where does she go if she's not there?"

"We saw her in the cellar," Sam said. She hesitated for a moment, and then continued.

"I had dinner with Geoffrey Benedict last night, and he told me about his great-grandmother. She was always in the living room, surrounded by her old toys. He doesn't remember when she ever wasn't like that."

"Her toys," Danny said, grinning. "I bet that Benedict stored them in the cellar. I think I even saw them. Some boxes with 'Crap' written on them. We can get her now."

Sam looked at the picture that was with the article. It showed a large man and two little girls with black hair and white dresses. They looked static, as was always the case with old photographs, but Sam thought she detected some disgruntlement with the children, as if they didn't want to be there, posing for a photographer in spotless white dresses, but instead run around in old ones, playing and laughing. She could relate to that. But it was probably just her imagination, a projection of her feelings towards her own parents.

"Let's go to Benedict's," Danny said, getting up, "I'll need to empty the thermoses first though, so we'll need to stop by Vlad's first."

"He's gonna let you do that?"

"Yes. We made a deal. I can empty my thermoses through his portal, for as long as he's there. He's gonna move back to Wisconsin."

"What kind of deal? What do you have to do for him?"

"I don't know yet. He just wants a favor in return."

"Are you mad," Sam gasped, "He could ask anything from you, overshadow people, spy on people..."

"Relax. I said I wouldn't do anything that would go against my morals," Danny said, and then added grumpily, "Whatever that may mean nowadays."

Sam looked puzzled for a moment, but then let it go.

"Get dressed, it's after ten o'clock already," she said, pushing him out of the kitchen, "Put on your shirt. I'm getting cold just by looking at you. I'll call Mr Benedict and tell him we're on our way. And we ought to pick up my car too, so we can make a proper entrance."

He suddenly turned around, letting his eyes flash green. "You get _cold_ by looking at me?" he grinned mischievously, and then he quickly ran out of the living room.

She rolled her eyes. "You're as bad as Tucker," she muttered, and she heard him laughing in the guest room.

They left together, Danny holding both Sam and the backpack containing the thermoses, and phased through the roof of her apartment. The weather had changed dramatically from the days before, the sky now heavily overcast with gray clouds, a mist hanging over the park, the grass and the trees looking frozen, making it look like a fairy tale landscape.

"Pretty," Danny commented and then set out a course to Vlad's mansion.

Sam closed her eyes as she felt the cold wind blow in her face, enjoying the fact that she was flying in the arms of her favorite person once again. It was very cold that high up in the sky, however, and it wasn't long before she started shivering, despite her warm coat. To her relief, the flight was short, and Danny put her down in front of Vlad's door.

He knocked and then rung the bell, without bothering to change back into his human form, knowing it was very unlikely he would be seen here standing in front of Vlad's front door, either from the neighbor's houses or from the road. It took a while, but then Vlad opened the door personally, wearing a dressing gown.

"Daniel," he scowled, "I thought I told you to call before you came."

"You knew I was coming today," Danny said irritably, "And I'm even knocking at your door. Just let me empty these thermoses and we'll be on our way. I've got other things to do today, unlike you."

"Daniel, Daniel," Vlad said, sounding exasperated, "You really should learn some courtesy. You're at my house, asking me a favor. The least you can do is be polite about it. Your mother raised you better than this."

At this, Danny's eyes started to flare a bright green, and Sam put her hand on his arm. Danny rolled his eyes.

"Oh, alright. Vlad. May I _please_ use your portal?"

Vlad smirked. "Of course, Daniel, be my guest."

They followed the billionaire into the house, and Danny quickly flew over to the huge painting that covered the door to Vlad's portal. Vlad pressed the button and it slid open, showing the familiar green swirling of the ghost zone. Sam saw Danny's eyes light up at the sight of it, and for a moment she had the strange feeling he'd missed it. She shivered again, this time not from the cold.

"I'll be in and out in about fifteen minutes," Danny said to her, and then, turning to his arch enemy, "If you harm her in any way, I'll hunt you down and cut you to pieces, slowly, and then I'll feed you to Cujo for breakfast."

"My, my," Vlad muttered, as Danny disappeared into the portal, "Such colorful language. And what a lack of imagination."

Sam looked around at the stack of boxes standing near the front door. It looked like most of what was in the house was packed, and she wondered why Vlad was still there. So she asked him.

"Ah, yes," Vlad said, "I have to pack the equipment in my lab myself, can't leave that to the movers. I told them to come back after new year. After Christmas, I'll start dismantling the portal."

He frowned at her. "It hasn't surprised me that Daniel would start this ghost hunting business, after all, that's his obsession, but I thought you would talk some sense into him. Maybe I misjudged you, Miss Manson. I always took you to be intelligent and down to earth."

"Maybe it isn't us who are in the wrong, but you yourself," Sam said coldly, "I think it makes perfect sense what Danny's doing. And he's good at it too. So you'd better get off his case."

Vlad opened his mouth to retort, but she would never know what he was going to say, because at that moment Danny somersaulted through the portal, shouting 'Close it!' Vlad had obviously been waiting for that to happen, because the portal closed right after him.

Danny let himself float to the floor, a self-satisfied smile on his face. He opened his backpack and showed Sam the four now empty thermoses.

"All gone," he said happily, "And I took the trouble of taking apart Skulker's suit and scatter it a bit, he'll be busy for a while trying to find everything and put it back together again, hopefully." He turned to Vlad, "And since you're moving and are packing all your equipment away, I'm guessing he's on his own for now."

Without waiting for Vlad's reply, he grabbed a hold of Sam and whisked her away, straight through the wall.

* * *

After parking the car sloppily in front of the house, the butler let them in again, smiling sympathetically at Danny and bowing to Sam, who blushed. He then led them to the living room. 

"Mr Benedict is out," he informed them, "But I have been instructed to let you in here. He lets you know that he expects you to capture the ghost today, or the deal is off. Christmas is a very important celebration to Mr Benedict."

"Sure," Sam muttered, "Lots of food."

The butler left them alone, and she looked at Danny, who looked back at her and shrugged.

"There's something here, in the house. Let's try the cellar. I'm sure we'll find something there."

Sam quietly activated her ecto weapons, feeling the tension rise in her. The ghost was strangely elusive, and she didn't like the way Danny evaded her questions about how it had gotten away from him the day before.

Danny opened the door to the cellar, found the light switch and turned it on. The cellar looked the same as always, almost empty but for the boxes standing on the shelves near the bottom of the stairs. He didn't wait, but rushed straight down, holding a thermos in his hands. Sam followed more slowly, holding her ecto gun.

Down in the cellar, Danny immediately pulled the two full boxes which contained, according to the writing on the side, 'Crap'. He opened one of them and looked inside, and Sam saw a steady stream of cold air coming from his mouth.

"Found it," he said, his voice sounding strangely loud in the oppressive atmosphere of the cellar, "Look, Sam, these must be her things..."

Suddenly he stopped, gasped and then stumbled backwards, crying out. To her horror, he fell to the ground and started convulsing. Realizing that this was an overshadowing attempt, she waited fearfully for Danny to push the weak ghost out.

Suddenly, he was quiet, laying face down on the ground. Then his hands moved, and he pushed himself up in one fluid movement. Standing with his back to her, he looked at his hands and then at the cellar.

"Danny?" Sam whispered, raising her gun a little.

He didn't seem to hear her at first, but then he turned around and looked at her. With a gasp, she stumbled backwards and sat down on a step of the stairs with a thud, looking into his now completely black eyes. Then he straightened and took a deep breath.

"Wonderful," he said in a strange, deep, female voice, "It's been so long..."

He looked at his hands, and they glowed green.

"Such power...," he said, "All mine now."

He raised one hand and let out an ecto blast, obliterating the stairs. He was blown backward and slammed into the shelves. Sam dove for cover, as part of the ceiling came down too.

"Watch it!" she yelled at the ghost, "You don't know how to use it! You'll destroy the house if you're not careful!"

He turned to her, looking both surprised and satisfied at the destruction he had caused.

"What of it," he hissed, "They took her away from me. I'll destroy them one by one. Maybe bringing down this blasted house will set me free and I'll be able to look for her."

"No please, you don't want to do that," Sam said pleadingly, "Mr Benedict isn't even in the house! You would only hurt the butler, you don't want to do that, do you?"

Danny stopped, and Sam watched the different emotions cross his face, expressions that seemed strange on him. Hate, hurt, sadness all struggled for dominance, but he finally looked down and lowered his hands, making the green glow around them disappear. Then he took two steps and grabbed her by the throat, pushing her against the wall.

"You were going to capture me, destroy me," he hissed, and Sam started choking.

"I heard Richard talk to you. You're just like him. You work for him. I hate you."

Sam tried to shake her head, clawing at his hands that were strangling her, looking into the black pits that were his eyes. It seemed to her she was struggling forever, and she felt herself weakening as the ghost smiled eerily at her, using Danny's face. The edges of her vision began to blur, and she could no longer see straight when finally, desperately, she brought up her knee and kicked him in the groin. He gasped in pain and let go of her, stumbling backwards. Sam winced.

"Sorry...Danny," she gasped, trying to get some air into her oxygen deprived lungs.

Shakily, she pointed her right arm at the overshadowed Danny and activated her wrist gun, still leaning against the wall. But then she hesitated. If it was a normal human being that was overshadowed, she would just shoot the ghost right out of him, risking a painful burn wound. But Danny was part ghost. She might end up killing him this way.

Danny was straightening again and looking at her, a murderous expression on his face.

"Stop," Sam said, feeling through her pockets, "Wait, look at this."

She took out the copy of the old newspaper article and held it in front of her, showing him the picture of the two little girls with their father. The ghost that was Danny stopped, and for a moment his face contorted in rage and panic, seemingly struggling for control. Hope flared in her, hope that she had managed to distract the ghost long enough for Danny to push her out. He stood very still, panting, until he suddenly seemed to regain his composure.

"Beathas?" Sam asked.

The ghost looked at her cautiously, then nodded.

"I never liked that name," she said, and then stared at the picture again.

Sam held it out to her and she grabbed it and scanned over it. To her surprise, she suddenly saw tears streaming out of Danny's eyes.

"It's been such a long time," she whispered, "I miss her so much. Why did he have to send her away? It's not fair. I can't leave."

"Why?" Sam asked her, searching for a way to convince the ghost to let Danny go.

She didn't want to think about the consequences if Beathas was unwilling to do that. It was very unlikely that she could take her down, even if she was unaccustomed to Danny's powers.

"I'm bound to the house. To this stuff," she gestured to the boxes, one of which was overturned and had it's contents spilled on the floor.

She walked over to them, squatted down beside it and started rummaging through the collection of toys. She stopped when she came to an old doll with a brownish dress and a face made of porcelain. The face was cracked, and a piece of the nose was missing. She stared at it.

"Judy," she whispered.

Almost too afraid to speak, Sam squatted beside her.

"Beathas," she started softly, but the ghost interrupted her.

"Don't call me that," she said, "I hate that name. My father thought it up, because it was a 'true Scottish name'. He was obsessed with his ancestry. But you know what?"

She leaned closer to Sam, smirking. "Judy found out later that we actually descend from pirates. So he really didn't have much to be proud of."

"Is Siubhan Judy's real name?" Sam asked.

Beathas nodded. "We made up these names for ourselves. Figure it out. Siubhan became Judy. Means 'praised'. Beathas became 'Cate'. Means 'wise'."

She shook her head. "We should have found names that meant 'cursed' instead. At the time, we thought it was funny."

She sat down and tried to cross her legs. "My," she mumbled, "Guys are stiff. When I was young I could put my legs in my neck."

"What about Richard," Sam asked, still trying to find a way to talk the ghost out of Danny.

Beathas' eyes became an even deeper black.

"He used to be such a nice little boy," she said, "His parents died in an accident, and Judy raised him. I used to play with him. But when he grew up, he became obsessed with power and status, and he was embarrassed by my presence. He started denying my existence, threatening Judy, telling her to keep quiet about it. So I hid. I still had Judy. She took care of me. He must have thought I'd left."

"That's unfair of him," Sam said softly, "To tell you the truth, I don't really like him very much either. But I had dinner with his son. He's kind of nice. I think you'd like him, and you would like Danny too. If I promise to take you to see your sister, would you let him go?"

Beathas seemed to think about that for a moment, then sighed, looked at Danny's hands one more time and quietly drifted out of him. Danny scrambled backwards and then jumped to his feet, his hands glowing green, an angry expression on his face.

"Danny, stop!" Sam shouted, placing her between him and the floating white ghost of the old woman, "I promised her to take her to her sister!"

"What!" Danny shouted, breathing heavily, "You're nuts. I'm not taking a ghost into that nursing home!"

"Danny, I promised! And she's harmless!"

"Harmless, you call this harmless?" Danny said, looking at her incredulously.

Beathas floated closer and he stepped back. "Don't come any closer," he hissed, his eyes glowing green.

"Danny boy," Beathas said, "I won't hurt you."

He stared at her. "You already did. And don't call me boy, I'm sick of that."

Beathas chuckled, which sounded very creepy in the cellar.

"Then don't behave as one," she said, and suddenly her face became expressionless, her dark eyes distant.

"I think we don't have much time," she said.

She disappeared, and this time Danny and Sam saw the toys from the overturned box light up for a moment, before going back to their seemingly harmless state. Sam approached her friend and hesitantly put her hand on his arm, but he jerked it back and took a few steps away, turning his back on her.

"I promised," she said.

He just stood there for a while, breathing heavily and then turned around again.

"Alright," he said hoarsely, "If you say so. I trust you, Sam."

Her heart skipped a beat in joy, knowing full well that this statement meant that he placed his life into her hands. She had never been overshadowed before, but she imagined it must be a frightening experience.

Together they put the toys back into the box, and then they each grabbed one. Danny transformed in a flash, grabbed Sam and lifted her up, holding Sam in one arm and the box in the other. Once upstairs, standing on the narrow ledge near the door that was all that had remained of the stairs, he transformed back again, and together they made their way to Sam's car, still standing outside. Sam realized it had only been twenty minutes since they had parked it there. It felt like they had been in there for hours. She looked at her watch.

"You know," she said, "There's a plane leaving for Madison at three-thirty."

"That's less than two hours away. We'll never make it," Danny said curtly, dismissing the idea.

Sam shrugged. "Just saying."

* * *

The nurse looked at them speculatively, taking in their somewhat disheveled state and the two large boxes they were carrying. 

"I don't know," she said, "Mrs Benedict isn't feeling well today. She's in bed, sleeping I think. You should come back some other time."

Sam shook her head. "We need to see her now. It's really important, a matter of life and death."

The nurse scowled at her. "So is this. Mrs Benedict is very old. Her health is failing."

"What's the matter with her?" Danny asked, shifting the box somewhat as to get a better grip on it.

"She's just old," the nurse said, shaking her head, "Her body is failing her. It won't be long now."

"Just like Beathas said," Sam muttered, and then, out loud, "All the more reason for us to see her now then. We have some things of her in these boxes, she'll like that."

The nursed hesitated some more, but then, seeing as they had a point, she motioned them to follow her. They walked the long hallways to her room, and the nurse peered inside.

"Just for a little while then," she whispered to them, before letting them into the room.

Sam stepped into the room, closely followed by Danny, while the nurse closed the door behind them, saying she would be just outside. Sam quickly took in the room, and then made her way over to the bed in the corner where a very old lady was laying, her eyes closed.

"Judy," Sam whispered, "We brought you someone."

Upon hearing her name, the old woman opened her eyes and looked at her and then at Danny. Then her eyes started wandering through the room, as if searching for someone, until they finally rested on Sam again. She looked disappointed.

Sam put her box down and started rummaging through the assorted toys. She took out the old doll and handed it to Mrs Benedict, who, upon seeing it, starter crying.

"Cate," she whispered, "Cate. My lovely Cate. You're here."

The doll suddenly glowed, and the ghost of Beathas McGrath appeared, showing herself as a young girl. Mrs Benedict extended her hand and almost touched her, smiling. The ghost looked sad and happy at the same time.

Sam grabbed Danny's arm, and they slowly walked backwards in the direction of the door. Beathas turned her head and mouthed 'thank you' to them. Then she disappeared from sight, and the hand of Mrs Benedict fell back on the bed while her head rolled sideways. Sam looked at Danny and then opened the door.

"Nurse," she said, "I think Mrs Benedict just passed away."

The nurse nodded gravely and entered the room, looking at the scene of the unmoving old lady in the bed, holding the old doll, a happy expression on her face. She turned around.

"Go," she whispered, "I think you just made her very happy. Thank you."

They walked to the parking lot in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Upon reaching her car, Sam stopped and grabbed Danny's arm. He looked at her.

"She was waiting for her sister all those years," he said sadly, and then he turned around to look at the buildings of the nursing home. "Maybe I'm in the wrong business."

"Of course you're not, silly. Everything turned out OK after all, didn't it? The ghost is gone, and we made someone happy. What more do you want?"

Danny shot her a glance and quickly looked away. They just stood there for a moment, not knowing what to say, and then Sam spoke.

"You know, we can still catch that flight if you fly us to the airport..."

"But I haven't packed anything," Danny protested, trying to find excuses, but obviously already half convinced by Sam.

"You know what, I'll take you shopping then when we arrive! See it as my Christmas gift to you." She smirked at him. "The only condition is that I get to pick your clothes."

Danny was starting to look desperate now. "No goth," he warned.

Sam blinked at him innocently. "Would I do that to you?"

"You turned Tucker into a goth once. Yes, you would."

"It looked awful on him. It'd look great on you. But alright, not goth." She smiled and then mumbled, "Not completely, anyway."

"Oh, alright then. Let's catch that flight, catch some new clothing and then see if we can try and catch the turkey at my parents' new house."

The two familiar white rings quickly transformed him into something that could fly, and he reached out for Sam, who held up her hand to hold him off.

"Just a minute," she said.

She flipped out her phone and pressed a single button. Danny's face was one big question mark.

"Hi Jazz," Sam said in a chipper tone that made Danny very worried, "We're on the three-thirty. And he agreed to the shopping too. See you there!"

Danny stared at her. "You have Jazz on speed dial? This is a conspiracy, right?" he asked, "You two set me up!"

Sam grinned at him. "Only because we love you, you dork."

* * *

_Gah! This is the last time I'll let myself get carried away like this, but I just couldn't resist putting in that sub plot with Vlad. I think I could have turned this into a full blown multi chapter story twice the length. I'll try to keep the next one within the 10,000 word limit I set for myself._

_And yes, I'm aware of the fact that 'Beathas' gave in too easily and stopped overshadowing Danny. If this was a multi chapter story, it would have taken Sam a whole chapter to talk her out of it._

_**Merry Christmas to all of you!**_


	4. Episode 3: Rosemary's diamond

_Summary: Danny and Sam capture a ghost for a recently widowed woman. But then she comes to them with an unusual request..._

* * *

**SPECTER DETECTORS LTD**

**Episode 3: Rosemary's Diamond**

* * *

Tucker sat under the counter in CompuStore, the biggest computer store in town, pressed against his colleague. Under any other circumstances, he would have welcomed this position, as his colleague was Marcia Mulder, a young, intelligent, starting sales person, but the fact that Technus was right above them, only inches away from spotting them, spoiled it a bit. Tucker had tuned out the ghost's loud proclamation of world dominance, and was instead trying to see whether he could reach his bag, because besides containing his lunch, it also contained a newly charged ecto gun and a Fenton thermos. Tucker felt he really could use those right about now, but there was no way to get to the door to the personnel entrance and retrieve it without Technus noticing. He needed a diversion.

Slowly, he twisted somewhat, causing Marcia to gasp when his elbow hit her stomach, and reached for his phone. For a moment, he considered calling Danny anyway, but then he dismissed it for the second time, knowing he was across town with a new customer. Tucker didn't want to spoil a deal if he didn't have to. Instead, he punched some numbers and waited until the phone on one of the information counters began ringing, sounding absurdly loud in the quiet Technus had caused – he had hit the muzak installation, a thing Tucker was actually grateful for.

As soon as the technology obsessed ghost heard the unexpected sound he stopped ranting and glared at the phone, a small wireless thing that still had 'Jingle Bells' as a ring tune, even thought Christmas was over a month ago. Tucker held his breath as the ghost drifted away from them and tensed, prepared to make a run for the door. Just when he was about to move, two small hands grabbed his arm and held him back.

"Don't leave me," Marcia whimpered.

Tucker closed his eyes. For three days he had tried to get Marcia to date him, but she had smiled vaguely at him and had told him 'maybe some other time'. Having gotten a little wiser over the years, he had given up after that. He'd always dreamed of women to say that to him, but somehow they never had. And now she was saying it to him at the worst possible moment.

"Let me go!" he hissed to her, "I'll come back for you!"

She started shaking her head vigorously, her brown eyes tearing. He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, alright, come with me, but be quiet!"

He dragged her up on her feet, and together they tiptoed to the door behind Technus's back, who was doing something to the phone on the information desk. Just when they reached the door, Tucker's phone started playing 'Remember' from Ember, something that had caused raised eyebrows with his friends.

"Oh, crud," Tucker muttered as Technus turned around, holding up the phone and looking at him triumphantly.

"Aha!" the ghost yelled, "I've got you now! You try to deceive me, I, the great Technus, who will dominate the world..."

Tucker didn't wait for him to finish the speech, but instead pushed Marcia through the door and then dove inside himself, narrowly avoiding an ecto blast from the ghost, who had interrupted his speech just for that. He didn't wait, but pushed the girl roughly aside, made a beeline for his bag and started rummaging through it.

"What are you doing?" Marcia asked in a frantic voice, "Are you mad! You don't need your lunch, we need to get outta here!"

"Girl," Tucker muttered, holding the bag upside down and causing his laptop computer to clatter on the floor, along with the ecto gun and the thermos, "I always need my lunch."

He flipped the switch on the ecto gun and to his satisfaction saw a faint green glow coming from it. Then he rushed back to the door and pushed it open just a little bit, to see where Technus had gone.

A loud 'Aha' was his only warning. Not thinking – thinking would have had him running out – he jumped, not back inside the room, but out into the store again, rolling on the floor to avoid Technus's blasts until he was behind the counter again. Holding the gun in his right hand, the thermos in his left, he sat there for a moment, breathing heavily. He wasn't out of shape anymore, at least, not as much as he used to be, but he still was no match for Sam or Danny. It'd have to do.

He edged to the side of the counter, the gun in front of him and peered around it, directly into Technus's eyes, who blasted him. But not before he got a shot out of his own, having expected that move. He rolled back, crawled under the counter to the other side and shot the ghost again from underneath. Technus howled in pain and surprise and edged back, only to retaliate almost immediately, this time hitting Tucker on his left hand, causing him to almost drop the thermos.

He edged back again, gasping in pain, realizing that if they wanted to capture the ghost, there would need to be two of them, one for keeping the ghost busy and one for sucking him into the thermos. He was alone.

Gasping, shaking, knowing Danny would be mad at him for even attempting something like this, he jumped up, firing his gun as fast as he could at the ghost, jumping and zigzagging madly to avoid Technus's return fire, running directly at him. After years of practice he could shoot almost as well as Sam, especially at point blank range, but shooting and running at the same time tends hamper your aim. Still, he managed to hit Technus twice before he got hit in the shoulder himself. He let out a scream, dropped the gun and fell to the floor, rolling away instantly until he was directly underneath his adversary. Which was exactly where he wanted to be.

He flipped open the thermos and pointed it straight upwards, closing his eyes and turning his head away from the bright light of the blue vortex. This close, the ghost had no chance. With an unearthly howl it disappeared into the thermos, yelling and screaming he'd be back.

"Yeah, yeah," Tucker gasped, "See ya later."

The quiet in the store was overwhelming. He laid on his back, staring at the off-white squares of the ceiling, noticing his glasses had cracked. His shoulder was now competing with his hand in throbbing painfully from the burn wounds, and he was just about to try and get up when the sprinkler installation went off, instantly drenching him and all the valuable computer equipment around him. He started to laugh.

* * *

Danny glared at his friend, who was sitting on the ground in the middle of the basement, the still malfunctioning ecto energy reader on his lap and several tools spread out around him. His left hand was wrapped in bandages, as was, invisible under his shirt, his right shoulder. Pain killers had made him slightly light headed, and he had insisted on leaving the hospital and proceeding with their plans for the afternoon: finishing the ghost portal. Danny didn't like it.

"Look," Tucker said, without looking up at his friend, "You know we have to do this. The thermoses are full again, and I don't like it that you have to go to Wisconsin to empty them at Vlad's portal there. It's a long trip, it drains you and Vlad's evil. I'm alright. I'm no worse than you are half of the time."

"Tucker, two words: superhuman healing. Those burn wounds would be gone by tomorrow if it had been me. You're an idiot. You should have called me, screw the consequences. I'd rather lose a client than you."

"Yeah, well, you're probably right. But I got him, didn't I. _And_ I got a date out of it."

Sam, sitting in the corner, watching the conversation, started to laugh.

"Alright," she said, "You convinced me. You are now officially a moron. You're worse than Danny ever was."

"Hey!" the ghost hybrid said, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, Danny, you were always pining after Paulina, taking stupid risks to 'save' her," she held up her fingers as to quote the word 'save'.

"Jealous," Tucker sang quietly, screwing the lid back on the energy reader.

"That was ages ago," Danny said, ignoring Tucker, "I was a kid back then."

Tucker painfully got up and walked to the control panel of the ghost portal. He scanned the wiring intently, looking for discrepancies, but he didn't find any. Carefully, he placed the spectral energy reader, essential for keeping the portal within it's working range, on top of the control panel, fastened the wires at all the appropriate places and then screwed it back into place, a bit awkwardly because of his injured hand.

"You're still a kid. You still play pranks on people and you still play Doomed."

Tucker flipped the switch on the side of the control panel and the thing whirred to life, the various dials spiking for a moment before settling into place, all neatly pointing at where they're supposed to be pointing. A small red light blinked in the top right corner, signifying that, as everyone could see, the portal was turned off.

"How is it that Tucker gets himself injured in a stupid move, I'm getting the blame for it? What is this, some 'women against men' thing, an 'all men are children at heart thing'? Or maybe we just don't live up to your boyfriend?"

"Ah," Tucker thought, turning around to watch his friends, "Here we go again."

"Dating him a couple of times doesn't make him my boyfriend. Danny, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were jealous," Sam said angrily.

Danny started muttering to himself and turned around, straight into Tucker's face, who bore a look saying 'I told you so'.

"What!"

Tucker's grin widened. "Done."

Both Sam and Danny forgot their argument instantly, and they jumped up and joined Tucker at the console. The octagonal shape of the portal looked dead and quiet, it's silence being accentuated by the soft buzz that came of the control panel.

Danny stepped forward, hesitated for a moment and turned around to his friends, his face a mixture of excitement and fear. Then he resolutely turned around and stepped into the portal to inspect it from the inside. Shivers ran down his spine as he let his fingers brush the seams of the metal plating, carefully stepping over the wires that were on the floor. This time, he wouldn't be in the portal when they turned it on, but just standing there made the painful memory come back to him.

It had been the single most painful, horrifying experience in his life. And he had done it twice. The second time, he hadn't remembered the first time. If he had, he was certain nothing in the world would have convinced him to go back in there again, not even Sam. Just being in here with the portal turned off and trusting his friends not to turn it on while he was in, was a victory in itself. For a short while. Suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of wanting to leave, he stumbled backwards, almost tripping over the wires on the floor.

For an agonizingly long heartbeat, he was back ten years, tripping over the wires, putting his hands on the switch, feeling the sudden onslaught of ectoplasm and electricity strip away the flesh from his bones, turning him inside out, reversing him and then putting him back together again. Then he caught himself without touching the wall and he just stood there, panting. Finally, getting a hold of himself, he turned around and stepped out of the portal.

"Are you alright?"

He looked at Sam's concerned face and nodded curtly, before looking away. He would never be alright. He turned to Tucker at the console.

"All set?"

Tucker nodded, looking at the impassive face of his half-ghost friend.

"Let's do this," Danny said, mentally adding, "Before I change my mind."

Reaching behind him, Tucker retrieved a small glass tube and held it out to Danny.

"You said you'd provide the ectoplasm," he said, a little reluctantly because he had a feeling he knew where Danny was going to get it from.

Danny nodded, took the tube and let the two rings appear around his waist, transforming him into his ghostly self. Hovering slightly above the ground, his head almost touching the ceiling, he held out his right hand and formed a razor sharp short knife from a combination of ice and ectoplasm. Tucker had seen him do it before, but with a different purpose. Fascinated, unable to look away, he watched as Danny made a quick slash on his left arm.

Ectoplasm started to leak out and Danny transferred the small tube to his right hand after dissolving the knife. He held the tube to his arm and managed to let a substantial amount of his ectoplasm pour into it. Then he handed it carefully back to Tucker, who took it and placed into it's holding device. Sam had been watching the process silently.

Danny looked at his arm, still oozing green ectoplasm, and decided to change back to make it stop, hoping the wound would disappear entirely. He had a pretty good idea nowadays which wound would show up as he went human and which wouldn't, and he was pretty sure this one would only leave a thin red line on his arm. He was right.

As gravity took hold of him again, he rolled up his sleeve and inspected his arm. Next to the almost invisible scar from the knife wound he received two months ago, there was indeed a thin red line. He was about to pull his sleeve down again when he felt Sam's hands on his arm. She pulled his arm towards her and looked at it.

"You're mad, you know that don't you?" she asked.

He laughed, amused. "Sure I am. And so are you for even talking to me." He turned to Tucker again and nodded.

Tucker smiled and pulled the lever on the control panel. The light in the basement dimmed for a moment, before coming back on full again. The portal sparked. The small ecto filter started glowing green.

Danny felt his mouth go dry and his heartbeat slowing down, mimicking his ghostly counterpart. Or maybe time slowed down. He stared at the portal for a moment, waiting for the sparking to subside and then turned to his friends, motioning them backwards and out of the line of the portal. If anybody was going to turn on the portal, it would be him.

The control panel hummed. Somewhere in the house, somebody was using a tap, he could hear the water streaming through the pipes. A heavy truck drove by. Sam was scraping her combat boot against the floor, Tucker was breathing in short gasps. The static electricity of the portal made the hair on his neck stand up. He looked at the buttons next to the entrance, the buttons that had been on the inside before, the buttons that had almost cost him his life.

He stepped forward and slammed the green one.

* * *

Teresa Daniels stood on the steps in front of her house, hesitating. The ghost hunter had said he had caught the ghost, and they had walked through all the rooms together with his ghost detection device. They had come up with nothing. Still...

Taking a deep breath, she stuck her key into the lock and turned it, opened the door with a small push and peered inside. All was quiet, just like when she left a few hours earlier, feeling triumphant. She had beaten him, the ghost that had terrorized her the whole month. It had been a good idea, even though their office had seemed shabby and Mr Fenton had looked a bit young to be claiming ten years of experience in ghost hunting.

Slowly, she stepped inside, knowing it was safe now, but still expecting that whispering voice, that eerie laughter, those cold fingers in her neck. She shivered. Then she quickly rushed to the other side of the hallway and turned around to look back. There was nothing there. The house was warm and inviting, not cold, clammy and _conscious_.

"You're really gone," she whispered.

Smiling, relaxing, she put her keys down on the small table and habitually checked her appearance in the mirror above it. Blond, curly hair. Blue eyes, even bluer because of the tinted contact lenses she wore. Plain black skirt, matching jacket and gray blouse. After all, she was still in mourning. But she still looked a hell of a lot better than that woman ghost hunter, Ms Manson. She didn't quite know what her deal was, but the dark eyeliner on the pale face gave her a spooky look. Those black jeans tucked into combat boots had given her a somewhat military outlook, but Teresa was pretty sure the woman had nothing to do with that.

Both ghost hunters had looked thoroughly professional, and their presence alone had been comforting in itself. She remembered how they had told her to wait outside, and it had taken them fifteen minutes to flush the ghost out. They had caught it in some sort of containment device that looked like a soup thermos, and Fenton had wrapped his arm around Manson for a moment. Clearly a couple. Pity though. Fenton was kind of cute.

Thinking all this, she made her way up the stairs and into her bedroom. The huge, king size bed was standing in the middle of the room, and now she was finally able to sleep in it again. But first...

Smiling to herself, she made her way across the room into the bathroom, walked straight to the toilet and lifted the lid of the water basin. And stared. Confusion spread on her face, then fear, then anger. Frantically, she stuck her arm in and started feeling around in the cold water, but it was no use.

"No... you didn't," she whispered, then louder, "No! No! No! You bastard! You despicable... You can't do this to me!"

She slammed the lid back on and it broke. Standing in the middle of the bathroom, she felt her world fall apart.

* * *

He was sitting cross legged on thin air, hovering about two feet from the ground, staring into the green swirling of the ghost portal. Tucker was sitting at the table, papers spread out before him, going over his calculations. Sam was sitting on the floor, a collection of ecto weapons in various stages of disassembly around her. The soft clanking of her tools and the faint scratching of Tucker's pencil were the only sounds in the basement now.

Danny felt his friends' curious glances at him every now and then, but he ignored them. He was too busy figuring out what the portal meant to him.

At first, he had thought he wanted the portal to be able to dispose of the ghosts he caught. And it was true too, he really did need it for that. But during the past months it had become an obsession. Sure, he could use Vlad's portal, but he hated going to the fruit loop, knowing he owed him. And yet, he had been searching for excuses to go to Wisconsin, to make those short trips into the ghost zone to release the ghosts he caught. There really was no need to empty a thermos immediately. He could stash more than one ghost in it.

He held out his gloved hand and touched the barrier, the thin membrane that was the surface of the entrance to the ghost zone. He felt its power, its coldness, its connection to himself. Then he pressed a bit further, breaking the membrane, and his hand disappeared into the green. He drew back and watched as the membrane slid over his hand and repaired itself where he had punctured it. Fascinating stuff.

"Danny?"

He turned around and looked at Sam, who had just reassembled an ecto rifle.

"Do you think it's prudent to leave the ghost portal open like that, after you just disposed of ten ghosts, among which Technus?"

He grinned and shook his head. Then he floated to the console and pressed the modified genetic lock. It now only allowed Sam, Tucker and himself to open or close the door. Tucker was working on a remote, so that he could operate the door from inside the ghost zone, but it wasn't finished yet. Then he reluctantly transformed back into Danny Fenton.

"Need a hand with those?" he asked her.

"Yes please," she said, gesturing at the box full of wrist guns, "Did you leave anything for your parents at all?"

Danny's grin widened, and he mercilessly suppressed the thought that his exceptionally good mood was caused by the proximity of the ghost portal.

"This isn't even half of it," he said.

He sat down next to her and expertly started to disassemble one of the small guns, cleaning it parts with a rag and then putting it back together again. Then he checked the charge, and put those aside which needed recharging. With Danny's help, they finished them in less than half an hour.

"Are you gonna tell us now what you saw when you went inside?" Tucker asked, looking up from his work, "You said you'd tell us later, but I think this qualifies as later."

Danny's good mood evaporated, and he glanced at the portal.

"Ah yes," he said, "About that. We, um, have a slight problem there."

Sam put the gun she was working on down and Tucker pushed his chair back. They both looked at him expectantly.

"You know how it is that in the ghost zone, distance doesn't really mean anything? I mean, moving the ghost portal about a mile in the real world doesn't mean moving the ghost portal the same distance in the zone?"

"Yeah man," Tucker said impatiently, "I figured that. We have no clue as to where in the ghost zone a portal is gonna open. It'll probably be on the infinimap, but since we don't have it..."

Danny shook his head. "No. I think it's pretty random. Where the portal opens up, it has to do with the amount of startup energy. That's what I think."

He didn't think. He knew. He had personally opened that portal ten years ago. He had felt the tearing of reality, the energy streaming through him, searching for a way out, a way in, until it settled and the portal was open and he was a ghost. But this time, he hadn't been inside the portal. Only close. And it had been enough.

"Anyway," he continued, rubbing the back of his neck, "We're in a different part of the ghost zone now."

"So where are we?" Sam asked.

"Um." Danny looked at the ground, knowing they wouldn't like his answer. "Actually, we're pretty close to Walker's prison."

"What!"

His friends looked at him, stunned.

"Well, at least we're not inside his prison," he said jokingly.

Sam and Tucker were not amused.

"This is bad," Tucker said, "He's still after you, and now we practically invite him in. Maybe we should shut down the portal again, and then try again."

Danny shook his head.

"That won't work. It'd open at the same place. The gateway is there now, even if we shut it down, the barrier is weak. It's like a hole in a tire. Always a weak spot. If you pump up the tire to hard, which is basically what we're doing when opening a portal, that same spot will burst. We'd have to physically move the portal again, and even if we could I don't want to go around Amity Park puncturing holes in the barrier. It's weak here as it is."

"How do you know all this?" Tucker asked.

Danny shrugged and looked away.

"My parents could never figure it out. The readings they got from the portal opening and the amount of energy they put in. It didn't fit. It couldn't fit. They never got anywhere with it and it frustrated them no end."

Comprehension dawned on Sam's face. "Because you were in the portal when it opened. You absorbed part of the energy..."

Danny nodded. "When the portal opened..."

He stopped, suddenly afraid to go on. He was the strong one, the hero. He shouldn't show them his vulnerable side. Sam seemed to catch on, however.

"You can tell us," she said, "We're your friends, Danny. That's what friends are for."

He waved his hands, opting for the censored version. "I felt it when the barrier was breached and the ectoplasm leaked out. I could tell when it was trying to balance itself with the real world. The thing is self-sustaining, it needs very limited power once it's started up. And the ecto filter, of course. A natural portal collapses after a certain amount of time."

Sam scowled at him and he looked away, knowing she knew he was withholding something.

"How about dinner?" Tucker asked.

* * *

Teresa sat in her car, watching the old house from across the street. There was a light on in the hallway, she could see it shining through the window above the door, but the second floor, where the ghost hunters' office was, was dark. The third floor seemed dark too, but she could see some light shining through an opening in the heavy drapes that were in front of the windows.

What to do. What to say. She had been sitting there for more than half an hour already, in the dark, in a bad neighborhood with an expensive car. She should get out of there. At that moment, the lights on the second floor went on. So they were there after all.

Seeing it as a sign, she stepped out of her car and quickly crossed the street, looking around nervously. The sound of her high heeled shoes echoed through the street, and she felt very conspicuous. She rushed to the door and pressed the bell next to the sign 'Specter Detectors'. She could hear the shrill noise of it sounding through the house. As she waited, fidgeting nervously, she saw a dark car pass by. She kept an eye on it from the corner of her eyes, trying to look as if she didn't notice it. Was that an unmarked police car? She almost missed the footsteps on the stairs.

The door was yanked open, and Teresa stared into the blue eyes of Daniel Fenton. He looked at her in surprise.

"Mrs Daniels," he said, "What a surprise... is everything alright? More ghost trouble?"

She shook her head and pushed her hair back behind her ear, a nervous gesture that she usually managed to suppress. She blinked at him, and to her satisfaction she saw he blushed. Maybe he wasn't that attached to that gothic woman. Her chances were improving.

"May I... come in?" she asked sweetly.

He blinked at her and stepped back, allowing her to brush past him. She deliberately paused for a moment in passing, looking up at him smiling. Then she continued up the stairs, hearing him shut the front door.

She knew the way, and made straight for the office, finding the gothic woman and a black man, the first sitting at a laptop computer near the window, the latter at a desktop computer on an old desk. They both had an email program on.

"Mrs Daniels," the goth said, getting up, "Is there a problem?"

Teresa looked at her appraisingly. "In a way," she said coolly.

She had to get rid of her. She nodded at the black man. "Another associate?"

"Ah yes," came Fenton's voice behind her, "This is Tucker Foley, our third partner."

Foley held out his hand and she shook it. Then she turned around and smiled at Fenton some more, noticing from the corner of her eyes how the goth started giving her very dirty looks. Fenton seemed oblivious.

"How nice," she said.

"Um," Fenton said, "Can we help you with anything? Is there another ghost at your house? That would be strange, because usually ghosts stay away from each other and..."

"No Mr Fenton," Teresa said, "No ghost. It's perfectly fine now. But I was wondering, what do you do with the ghosts you capture?"

All three of them stared at her. It was probably a bit unusual to come here after they were done and ask something like that.

"It's in the frequently asked questions on our web site," the goth, whose name had escaped her, said, "We transfer them to what is called the ghost zone. It's quite harmless. We don't hurt them."

The ghost zone. Suddenly, she got worried.

"And, have you already done that?" she asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we did," Fenton said, and she heard triumph in his voice.

He seemed very happy about it. Time for another act. She started sniffing, and took out a small handkerchief from her bag.

"Oh," she said, "Oh."

Fenton seemed at loss about what to do, but then he stepped forward and put his arm around her shoulders. He glanced at the goth and waved his hand, telling her to move out of the way. The goth stood up and stepped aside, so that Fenton could lead her to the chair she had been sitting on.

"There now," he said, worried, "Would you like a glass of water?"

Teresa nodded, and Fenton quickly gestured at the goth to get some. The woman's scowl deepened, and she stomped off. Foley just sat there, having an odd look on his face. She sniffed some more.

"What's wrong?" Fenton asked.

She looked up and saw that he was still hunched over her, his right hand on the table, his left on the back of the chair. She stared into his eyes, and for a moment lost herself into those concerned blue orbs. Then she remembered what she came here for.

"He took it," she sniffed, "He took it with him, and now it's gone."

Confusion on his face now. He had a very expressive face, she doubted he could hide any of his emotions. At that moment, the goth entered with a glass of water.

"Oh, thank you miss... I'm sorry, I forgot your name."

"Manson," the goth said curtly.

"Miss Manson, of course," Teresa said, remembering how the name had rang a bell, "Are you related to the Mansons who live on Elm Street?"

"My parents," Manson said.

Teresa nodded, now able to place her. And dismiss her. With parents like that, and the way she dressed, it couldn't be that they had a good relationship. She turned back to Fenton, who had straightened and was now leaning against the table.

"The ghost took my necklace... it was in the safe in the master bedroom, where you caught it. It was there this morning, I checked. And now it's gone. Nobody else could have taken it, I'm the only one who knows the combination."

Fenton stared at her. "Why would a ghost take your necklace?" he asked, "Was it valuable? Was it insured?"

She shook her head. "No, not really. My mother gave it to me. It's just a cheep necklace with glass stones in it, but I was very attached to it. My mother passed away five years ago and I..."

She started sniffing again, rubbing her eyes to make them appear red, careful to not mess up her mascara.

"Can you get it back?" she asked, blinking at Fenton, who started rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'll pay you for it," she added.

"I don't know..." he said.

"No!" Manson stepped forward, trying to put herself between Teresa and the ghost hunter.

"Danny, no. You can't go in there. Not for a stupid necklace. It's too dangerous."

"Please?" Teresa tried to look both innocent and seductive. Manson shot her a dirty look again.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Daniels," she said decisively, "We can't do that. The ghost is already in the ghost zone. We can't go after it."

"Can I be the judge of that?" Fenton asked, now looking slightly annoyed.

"No," Manson said stubbornly, "You always take stupid risks. It's not worth it. I'm sorry, Mrs Daniels, you'll have to contact your insurance company. We can't help you."

"I could make it worth your while," Teresa said, looking past Manson at Fenton, trying to make it sound like it could mean more than just money, without sounding as if she did that intentionally.

Manson turned around, giving the both of them a furious look. Teresa had to fight to keep the smile off her face when she saw the indecision on Fenton. She had him. Manson turned to Foley.

"You say something," she demanded.

Foley, who had been looking at a PDA in his hands, looked up.

"No way I'm getting between you," he just said, before turning his attention to the PDA again.

Manson growled, threw her hands in the air and stomped out of the door. Teresa stood up and stepped closer to Fenton.

"Please?" she said, batting her eyes.

He gulped and looked away. She placed her hand on his arm and he looked back at her, uncertainty in his eyes. She stroked his arm and bend forward a little, looking up at him.

"It would really mean a lot to me," she whispered.

Fenton tore his eyes away from her and looked at the door, where Manson had disappeared.

"I'll think about it," he said.

She smiled hopefully at him and then stepped back.

"That's all I ask," she said sweetly, but sadly.

She walked to the door and just before opening it, turned around to Fenton, who was staring at her.

"Would you escort me to my car," she asked him, "I'm a little nervous in this neighborhood at night..."

He jumped up. "Sure," he said, "No problem."

She turned and walked to the door, watching Fenton from the corner of her eyes to see if he followed her. They walked quietly down the stairs, and then he pushed past her to open the door for her. Putting on her best grateful smile, she stepped outside.

"My car is over there," she pointed.

"Oh, alright," Fenton said.

They walked the short distance in silence. Arriving at the car, she stopped suddenly and turned around, causing him to bump into her.

"Sorry," he muttered.

She leaned into him for a moment, making sure he caught her meaning before stepping back.

"Thank you, Mr Fenton," she said.

She kissed him quickly on the cheek, turned around and stepped into her car. He stepped back, bringing his hand to his face, and as she drove off, she could see him staring after her. Oh yes, she had him.

* * *

Danny reentered the office with a confused expression on his face. Tucker had put down his PDA, and Sam was sitting on the desk next to him. They both glared at him.

"What?" he asked, "What did I do?"

Sam got up and stepped in front of him.

"You are so not going into the ghost zone to retrieve that trinket for your new girlfriend."

"Who said I was?"

"You did!"

"I did not."

"You didn't say you wouldn't."

"I said I'd think about it. That's OK, right? Thinking about something? This is a free country, I can think about whatever the hell I want."

"Guys," Tucker said, "Could you please hold your lover's quarrel somewhere else?"

"Tucker!"

Tucker winced at the two loud voices in his ears. Still, he couldn't resist poking them every now and then. Danny brought his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said, "I'm tired, I have a headache and I'm going to lay down. You two have fun answering email."

With that, he simply phased through the books on the wall and the wall itself into his small bedroom.

"Sure," Sam muttered, "Run away again."

She looked at her watch.

"Almost ten. Let's call it a day, Tucker, I could use some rest too, and so can you."

Tucker shook his head. "You go. I'll... just play around with this stuff some more."

He gestured at the spreadsheet in front of him, containing readings from the opening of the ghost portal. He was trying to analyze them, to see if he could come up with a way to predict where in the ghost zone a portal would open, and if he could actually direct a portal to where he wanted it. It was a long shot, but he really didn't like being close to Walker's prison.

Sam shrugged in a suit-yourself-then way and left, grabbing her coat on the way out. Standing in the hallway, putting on her coat, she glanced at the door to Danny's bedroom. The bike was effectively blocking it, advertising a 'do not enter'. She shrugged again and left. He didn't escort _her_ to her car.

* * *

The next morning found Danny running errants, being called upon seven times to cross the city at break neck speed to deliver packages. Tucker worked his morning shift at CompuStore and Sam had a meeting with a new client. That left the phone in the office unmanned, and there were three calls on their answering machine when he finally made it back there, exhausted, sweaty and cold at the same time. He pressed the button while letting himself fall down on the swivel chair at the computer.

The first two messages were from people who wanted information, and he called them back immediately to explain their services to them and offer his help. The third call was different.

"_Mr Fenton , this is detective Sawyer, please call me back at the following number, 555 3421, thank you."_

He paused, staring at the machine in surprise and pressed the rewind button to catch it again. Then he picked up the phone and dialed the number.

"Sawyer."

"Um, hi, detective Sawyer? This is, um, Daniel Fenton. You called me this morning..."

"Ah, yes Mr Fenton, I would like come by to ask you some questions. Two o'clock alright by you?"

Danny glanced at the clock on the wall in confusion. One thirty. He could take a quick shower.

"Sure," he said, "What's this about?"

"See you at two."

The man hung up, leaving Danny to stare at the phone in his hands. Shaking his head, he put it down and went to take his shower.

At exactly two o'clock, the doorbell buzzed, and Danny let in detective Sawyer. He was a tall man in his fifties, with graying hair and friendly brown eyes. All in all, he looked more like a favorite uncle than a detective. The man followed Danny up to his office and sat down in the swivel chair.

"Well," he said, looking around, "Nice setup you have here. So this is the Specter Detectors ghost hunting agency. You know, we've been keeping an eye on you, but you turned out legit."

Danny shifted uncomfortably. He was sitting on the old wooden chair at the desk. Behind his back, the monitor showed small green ghosts, floating randomly around on the screen. Tucker's new screen saver.

"So, is that what this is about then?" he asked, "You want to see if we're not crooks?"

Sawyer shook his head. "No, no, not at all. Like I said, we cleared you. In fact, you seem to do a better job than the GIW, and they're the official ghost hunters."

"Yeah, well, they only hunt ghosts if they're in public places," Danny said, "They don't go to people's homes. We provide a service, that's all... hold on."

Danny picked up the phone to take the call. He quickly scribbled down the address and phone number, and with a 'yes, we'll help you, but I'm in the middle of something so I'll have to call you back', he hung up.

"Another client?" Sawyer asked, looking interested.

Danny nodded. "Look," he said, "Obviously, I'm a busy man. Can you please tell me what this is about, so I can get on with my job?"

"You're doing alright then," Sawyer said, giving no indication that he had heard Danny.

"Yes, we're doing alright," Danny said, irritated, "We're not breaking even yet, but we're getting close. We handle about two or three hauntings a week."

"Including one at Mrs Daniels's house."

Danny stared at him. "Is that what this is about? Did she complain? We didn't take that necklace, if that's what you're suggesting..."

Sawyer suddenly leaned forward, his eyes alight with interest.

"She's lost it?" he asked excitedly, "When! How! Tell me!"

Danny looked at him suspiciously. "I''m sorry, Mr Sawyer," he said coolly, "Client confidentiality. I won't tell you squat unless you convince me I should."

Sawyer leaned back in his chair.

"Alright," he said, "Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was a man called Harold Daniels. He was a thief. A minor low-life, but with a specialty: jewelry stores. He could get in and out undetected, always managing to bypass the alarm system, a bit like Phantom did ten years ago."

Danny winced.

"In fact, he was so good people started saying he had help from the inside, that was before we knew who it was. It was impossible, of course, he couldn't have had help at every single jewelry store. When we found out who he was, it turned out he worked at the company that installed the alarm systems. We knew it was him. We just could never prove it, and we never found any of the loot. And then he stopped doing it, and that was the end of it. The case was never solved."

"OK, fine," Danny said, "What does that have to do with me? I don't know the guy. When was this, anyway, I can't remember ever seeing something about it in the newspaper."

Sawyer waved his hand. "Oh," he said, "This was over twenty years ago. The man has lived a quiet life in his big mansion for all of that time. Nothing happened, until a year ago, when he married Teresa Agnetti."

Danny tensed. Teresa, the widow...

"I see you know her. Now, the thing is, I'm pretty sure Teresa didn't marry him for his looks. She was thirty years younger than he was, and look..."

Sawyer held out a picture of a fat, bald man with warts on his face. His small pig eyes looked blearily into the camera, and his blob-like nose looked red, as if he had drunk too much.

"Harold Daniels," Sawyer said, "Not a real beauty. Teresa married him because she thought he had money."

"He didn't?" Danny asked, studying the picture. He shivered, and handed it back. Sawyer shook his head.

"No," he said, "I think he spent it all during those twenty years. In fact, he had an extra mortgage on the house to finance his wedding. It must have been a real shock to her to find out that he had deceived her."

"Alright," Danny said, "I get it. The guy is dead now, you can't put him away for anything, so you're going after the wife?"

Sawyer impatiently shook his head.

"No, we would have left her alone. The thing is, all the jewelry Daniels stole turned up in the end, at different locations throughout the country. But there was one thing he couldn't sell. One piece that would attract too much attention. Rosemary's Diamond, named after the girl who first wore it in 1894. It's worth millions. The jewelry store had it for resetting it into a modern necklace. Daniels struck gold there. He took it."

Necklace... Danny turned pale. Teresa had asked him about a necklace. It wouldn't, it couldn't be that particular necklace, could it? He got up and walked to the window. The street below was a busy place. He could hear somebody rummaging around in the garage beneath him. A car passed by. A little bit further away, two people were arguing, waving their hands as if to emphasize their points.

"We captured a ghost in her house," he said, "Yesterday morning. It was an easy catch, it was over before we knew it. I didn't see anything that looked like a huge diamond in a necklace."

He turned around, and detective Sawyer was struck by the sudden intensity of his gaze.

"Last night Teresa... Mrs Daniels came by, asking what we did with ghosts we captured. She said it had taken a necklace with him, and she wanted it back. She was very... insistent. She said it was worthless, that it only had sentimental value to her. That her mother gave it to her."

Sawyer smiled brightly. He had her now. They only needed to get the necklace back, and tie it to her. Then he saw the grim look on the ghost hunter's face.

"If you're thinking we can get it back, you're mistaken," he said, "The ghost was already disposed of in the ghost zone. It's next to impossible to go in there and find him."

"Are you sure?" Sawyer asked, feeling disappointed, "You know, there's still a reward out for finding the thing. I believe it's close to twenty thousand dollars."

"Really?"

Danny looked thoughtful for a moment, but then shook his head.

"I'm not gonna risk my life for a mere twenty thousand dollars," he said, and then he held out his hand.

"Can I keep the picture?" he asked, "My partner, Miss Manson, caught the ghost. I never saw it, but she must have had a good look at him."

"Are you suggesting you caught the ghost of Harold Daniels?" Sawyer asked.

Danny shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. Like I said, I never saw the guy. How did he die, anyway?"

"Heart attack."

Danny looked at the wolfish grin on detective Sawyer's face and quickly suppressed the image that rose up in him. The detective got up and walked to the door. Then he turned around.

"Think about that reward," he said, and then he was gone.

Danny watched him walk to his car from the window. Then he went intangible and invisible and let himself sink through the floor, through the car in the garage where a man in a blue coverall was working, all the way to the basement. He didn't turn on the light, but instead walked to the small green light on top of the firmly closed ghost portal. It was humming softly. He stared at it.

"No way," he muttered, "Not for a mere twenty thousand dollars."

He shook his head. Sam would kill him if he tried it, and rightly so. Then he remembered the call he got during his conversation with detective Sawyer and went to answer it.

* * *

Teresa sat behind her dresser, looking in the mirror while combing her long blond hair. She had opted to wear it loose that evening, hoping that it would make an impression on Daniel Fenton. Danny, she reminded herself, his friends called him Danny. She smiled.

"Danny," she purred.

Yes, that was the way to go about it. She'd wrap him around her finger, just like she had wrapped Harold around her finger a year ago. She frowned in anger and frustration. He had looked so wealthy, so grand to her then. He was ugly, but she could see past that, she could live with that. She couldn't live with going back to working the night shift at the Nasty Burger again. That would mean humiliation. Her former friends would laugh at her.

She glanced at the clock. Eight thirty already. He had said he'd be there at eight when she called him. He was late. She didn't like to be kept waiting. He'd pay for it, she decided. Then, in a short moment of panic and insecurity, she wondered if he was going to show up at all. He had sounded a little reluctant on the phone that afternoon.

The bell sounded, and she allowed herself a moment of relief. Then she composed herself, and slowly descended the stairs to answer the door. One more moment to firmly plant a friendly, slightly seductive smile on her face, and then she opened the door, to look at his back. He had been looking up an down the street, as if planning to take off any moment. Her smile faltered, but then he turned around and she was able to look into his blue eyes again. Her smile came back on full force, and this time it didn't take her any effort at all.

"Mr Fenton... Danny. May I call you Danny?" she asked, "I'm so glad you could come. Please come in."

"Sure," he said, blinking at her.

She could see that he had been about to say something, but that her appearance had shut him up. For a moment, she wondered if the black silk dress she was wearing was a bit too much. But Harold had liked that one in particular, and she knew it looked stunning on her.

She closed the door behind him, and walked to the living room, as if expecting him to follow her. By doing that, she left him no choice but to do just that.

"Um," he said, looking around nervously at the excessive amount of red plush in the room.

The drapes were drawn, and only a few lights were on. In the fireplace, a small fire was crackling. Three candles on the table cast their erratic light on the paintings on the wall. Teresa turned around and stepped up to him, until her body was only inches away from his. She looked up. He really was quite attractive.

"W-what did you want to see me about?" he asked hastily, stepping back a little to get away from her.

She frowned at his movement. This was not how she planned it. He was supposed to be enthralled by her beauty, she would be irresistible to him. Maybe it was time to change tactics again. She blinked a few times, and then looked down, wringing her hands.

"I-I... please forgive me," she said sadly, "I've been so lonely since Harold died. It's so hard... being in this house... all by myself..."

"Oh," he said.

At least he had stopped backing away. She pushed the feral smile from her face and looked up again. He was staring at her, clearly not knowing what to do. She would decide for him. In one fluid motion, she stepped closer to him again and pressed herself against him. Then she stood on her toes to press her lips against his.

She felt him stiffen, his startled movement, but she gave him no chance to turn away again. Then she felt him answering her kiss, his hands move around her waist and up, until he suddenly stopped and pulled away.

"I know what you're up to," he said hoarsely, "You want me to get that necklace. They're on to you, Teresa, they know you had 'Rosemary's Diamond'."

She felt the anger flare inside her, a red hot spike in her emotions, and she knew it showed on her face. Quickly, she closed her eyes and tried to compose herself. He was still holding her. She could salvage this.

"Yes," she said, "Rosemary's Diamond. It's worth millions, Danny. We could get away from this all, go anywhere. Just you and me."

"You can't sell it," he said.

"Yes, I can," she said, "I have a buyer. We only need to salvage it. I know you can do it, Danny."

She pressed herself against him again and he groaned. Then he pushed her away from him and took a few quick steps so that the couch was between them. He was breathing heavily, and he looked angry. Teresa felt confused. What had she done wrong? She had him right there, he should have fallen for her, just like all the others. What man could refuse her?

"You don't understand, do you," he said, "I can't go into the ghost zone just to get a necklace. It's suicide. I can't go anywhere with you if I'm dead."

"No, it's you who don't understand," Teresa said, her voice now cold.

She felt the fury rise in her, and suddenly she hated him. He had let her make a fool of herself. He never had any intention of helping her. And he had been late. He had made her wait.

"I've waited long enough for this," she continued, "I've had to endure that man for almost a year, had to accept his filthy hands on me, had to pretend I _liked_ it... I deserve a reward for that. That bastard left me broke. I have to sell the house to pay off the mortgage. It will leave me with exactly _nothing_."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Danny said, and he sounded as if he meant it, which made her even angrier, "But I really can't help you. You'll have to help yourself."

He turned around and walked to the door. "Goodbye, Teresa."

"Daniel Fenton, don't you dare walk out on me!" she screamed.

"Watch me."

She was too late. The door closed behind him as she threw the vase she had picked up. It crashed against the wood and shattered on the floor. She stared at the mess, the wet shards, the wilting flowers. This was it. This was her life. All gone to pieces.

And then an idea hit her. Seething, she turned around and started rummaging through one of the drawers in the cupboard. When she found what she was looking for, a grim smile crept on her face. She was going to help herself.

* * *

Danny stood on the sidewalk for a moment, trying to compose himself. He glanced back at Teresa's house for a moment, and quickly suppressed the thought of going back in there. She was something else, though. He couldn't help but admire her determination. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked away. He felt a sudden need to see Sam. She didn't know he had gone to see Teresa, he hadn't told her because she would have been against it. He had told her and Tucker about the visit he had gotten from detective Sawyer, and they had been unanimous in their idea of leaving the matter be. But then Teresa had called, asking to see him, and he hadn't been able to resist the temptation.

He admitted that he was attracted to her from the beginning. Attracted like he would be attracted to anything with beauty. She was like a beautiful painting, to be admired, but not touched. And now he had touched.

Suddenly, he felt guilty. He thought of Sam again. He thought of how she would feel, pressed against him like Teresa had been, kissing him...

"Crap," he said.

He stopped, looked around and hid behind some bushes to go ghost. An instant and a bright flash later found him soaring through the sky, in the direction of Sam's apartment.

* * *

Sam was sitting in her favorite spot, on the floor in the basement of their office annex living quarters of their main ghost hunter. She had been at home earlier, but had felt lonely there. Tucker was here, doing some upgrades on the computers upstairs, and Danny was off somewhere. She frowned. He had been secretive about it, and she didn't like that. He was constantly keeping things from them, and she didn't know if it was to protect them of from a deep ingrained reflex to keep everything bottled up inside.

There really had been no reason to keep quiet about their proximity of Walker's prison for an hour. It was as if he had wanted to process the information first, as if he had wanted to censor it, carefully examine it to decide what to tell and what not. Which led her to believe that there was more to it than she knew. Maybe something from his past, from the time she and Tucker hadn't been there. Again, for the hundredth time, she felt the guilt of that wash over her. They had abandoned him. It had changed him. And no matter how carefree he seemed now, something was up.

A sudden chill alerted her, and she whipped around, already knowing who it would be. She smiled at his black and white form, shimmering into view, his green eyes sparkling when he caught sight of her.

"Hi," he said, "What'cha doing here?"

She shrugged. "I felt lonely at home," she said, and looked at him in surprise when she saw a flash of guilt cross his face. "So I went here to clean up. Tucker's upstairs. Where have you been?"

He looked away, and she felt suspicion rise in her. He had been up to something, that much she could see. He had never been able to hide his emotions well.

"Um, yes," he said, "I went to see Teresa."

Sam felt herself go cold. Instead of looking stricken, she managed to push a scowl on her face. She hoped he hadn't seen her sudden look of anguish, but she needn't have worried. He wasn't looking at her.

"You went _what_!" she said angrily.

He started rubbing the back of his neck, and now she almost laughed. She felt her anger disappear as quickly as it had come and berated herself for her mood swings. Danny glanced at her, and she saw relief on his face when he saw her laughing eyes.

"OK, it was stupid," he admitted, "She tried to get me to go into the ghost zone again, and even suggested we take off together to live on some tropical island from the money we'd get from selling the thing. Apparently she had a buyer."

"You're not going to do it, are you?" Sam asked.

"Of course not. I'd have to have a real good reason to get close to Walker's prison, and a million dollar necklace is not one or them."

Sam shook her head. "What's up with Walker anyway," she said, "You escaped him easily last time. He can't hold you, you're human."

He winced. "He, um," he said, "He had an upgrade to his prison. He now has a ghost-human proof cell."

"How?"

Danny shrugged. "Technus, I think," he said, "Not Skulker, he's still working for Vlad as far as I know. Vlad wouldn't want to end up in Walker's prison any more than I do."

Sam frowned, thinking back on the period of her and Tucker's absence. There had been a period...

"He caught you, didn't he," she whispered, "Three years ago, when we couldn't reach you, your parents couldn't reach you, when you were living at the dorm at college... You were gone for about a week, they were about to call the police when you showed up again. You weren't really on vacation, were you."

He looked at her, and this time she couldn't read his expression. The doorbell rang, but neither of them moved, and they heard Tucker's footsteps on the stairs. The vague sound of voices, then somebody entering and the door closed. Danny looked at the ground, and let the two rings appear around his waist, turning him human again, as if that somehow comforted him.

"I got out," he said, "That's all that matters."

A sudden movement at the hatch made them both look up. It opened, and Tucker's head appeared, looking worried and frightened.

"Guys, I'm sorry," he said.

He jumped down, immediately followed by Teresa Daniels, holding a gun.

"Move," she hissed.

She was no longer beautiful. Her face was contorted in a mad smirk, her eyes were shining too brightly. The hand holding the gun was unwavering, however, and she pointed it steadily at Tucker, who quickly moved away from her.

"Teresa!" Danny called out, "What are you doing! Put that gun away!"

Tucker came to a stop next to Sam, and she grabbed his arm in reassurance. Danny was standing close to the portal, looking as if he might rush the crazy woman, but not daring to because she had her gun on his friends.

"You," Teresa said, "I hate you. I would have given you everything, and you turned me away for this... this freaky woman!"

She pointed her gun at Sam and Danny went very still.

"So now you're going to get the necklace for me," she said, "Or the woman gets it. You understand? You are going to retrieve my necklace. You have two hours."

They all stood still, looking at each other. Danny looked at Sam in desperation, and then lifted his hand to press the button that opened the ghost portal. Sam shook her head, mouthing 'no!' at him.

"Come on, what are you waiting for," Teresa said in a shrill voice, and Danny heard the madness in it.

"Danny no," Sam said pleadingly, "It'll be the death of you."

"It'll be the death of your freaky girlfriend if you don't," Teresa said.

Danny pressed the button and the steel doors slid open, revealing the hypnotizing green swirling of the ghost zone. He felt it's coldness instantly, like a cold feather brushing over his skin. For a moment, he connected to it, and he sighed deeply, closing his eyes to hide the momentary green flare in them.

"You're a freak," Teresa said.

He opened his eyes and stared back at her, until she flinched. She strengthened her grip on the gun and kept it pointing at Sam. If it were only himself, Danny would have rushed her, trusting that he could go intangible in time to let the bullet go through. But he couldn't take that risk with his friends.

"Two hours," Teresa said.

Danny shook his head. "You're crazy," he said calmly, "Do you have any idea how big the ghost zone is? They call it the 'Infinite Realms'. It's endless."

He didn't tell her he had a pretty good idea on where the necklace and the ghost who stole it might be. Teresa looked at him fiercely.

"Then I suggest you get going," she said coldly.

With one last look at his friends, Danny stepped through the portal. The coldness inside hit him in his human form, and he quickly transformed. Doing that inside the ghost zone was so much easier than doing it in the human realm, and he suppressed the involuntary smile that crept onto his face. He needed to get moving.

He looked around to get his bearings again, and saw the rectangular shape of Walker's prison in the distance. When he had told Sam and Tucker that they were close to it, he hadn't told them how close. They were practically at his doorstep. Which practically guaranteed the ghost of Harold Daniels was in there, as was the necklace, it being a real world item. Walker would have confiscated it. The only thing he needed to to was get in there, snatch the necklace and get out.

He drifted closer to the prison, looking for any signs of Walker's goons, but he didn't see any. There were guards at the huge main entrance of course, but he wasn't stupid enough to go knocking there. Instead, he went in the opposite direction, taking a wide berth around the prison to arrive at the back. Then, flying straight at the wall at high speed he turned human at the last possible moment, phasing through the wall, using his momentum to keep going. As soon as he was through the wall, he changed again and jumped down on the floor in a crouch.

An empty corridor. Cold, dark, save for the barred windows, which let in the green glow of the ghost zone. Noises at the end of the corridor, sounding like hollow laughter. A chill ran up his spine, and he pushed unwelcome memories away. This was no time to dwell on the past.

Slowly, he got up and tried to get his bearings. He was all the way at the back of the prison. This part of the building was mostly deserted, which was good. However, he had to go across to the other side to get to Walker's office, where he would most likely keep any impounded contraband. At least, that was where he kept it the last time. Ten years ago.

He felt like taking a deep breath, but the futility of that in his ghost form stopped him. He did feel a little better for it, though, because to him it meant that he was still human. Ghosts don't breathe, and certainly don't feel the need to take deep, cleansing breaths. He listened to the distant voices some more, and then started walking. Into the direction of the voices.

* * *

Tucker looked at the blond woman holding the gun. She stared right back at him, unblinking. It was creepy. She hadn't looked crazy when she first came to visit the night before. But now she definitely did not look normal.

Sam shifted somewhat beside him, and Teresa tensed. Then she relaxed again, and leaned against the wall beneath the hatch.

"You won't get away with this," Sam said.

"Oh please," Teresa said, "That is so cliché. 'You won't get away with this'. I am getting away with this, don't you see? And maybe, if he is really nice, I'll let your boyfriend live. He still might take me up on my offer to come with me after all."

"He would do no such thing." Sam glared at her.

"Oh, but you're wrong there," Teresa smiled, "I almost had him tonight. He was quite passionate." She stepped closer to Sam, who had a stricken expression on her face. "But then he had to go running to you. Once you're out of the way, he'll be mine."

"You're mad," Sam whispered.

It pained Tucker to see the desolate expression on his friend's face. He felt a pang of anger at his other friend, his carelessness about her feelings. How could he even have considered going to that crazy woman? Not wanting to see Sam or Teresa's face anymore, he let his eyes wander around the lab, to settle on the control panel of the ghost portal. And that's where he saw it.

Casually, he glanced back at Teresa, who was still standing at the hatch. She hadn't seen what he had seen. He pushed himself away from the wall and stood up straight, wincing slightly when he saw her point the gun at his chest.

"I have to go check the ghost portal," he said, "It needs monitoring when it's open."

He felt Sam's sudden movement next to him, but luckily she kept quiet, obviously guessing he was up to something.

"No," Teresa said, "Stay where you are."

"OK," Tucker said, leaning against the wall again and folding his arms, "It's your funeral."

They were quiet for a moment, Teresa now nervously alternating her attention between Tucker and Sam and the ghost portal. Tucker looked at the ceiling, as if it was very interesting. Teresa took a step closer and hesitated.

"What do you need to do?" she asked.

Tucker shrugged. "You know. The portal is open. Ghosts can come through. I have to keep an eye on the readings and the ecto filter. If something goes wrong there, the thing blows."

He wasn't far from the truth, but she couldn't know he conveniently left out that the portal could be left to its own devices for weeks, as long as they made sure the ecto filter was full. And it was full. Danny had filled it himself only a day ago. She waved the gun.

"Go look, check your ecto whatever," she said, "But nothing funny, or your friend gets it."

Tucker stiffly walked to the control panel and started punching the keyboard and turning knobs. Carefully, making sure he had his body between Teresa and his right hand, he slid it to the object he had seen there.

"Multitasking," he muttered under his breath, "Years of practice." He almost smiled.

* * *

Time passed, and still he was observing the guards in the small room at the end of the corridor. There were six of them. Problem was, he needed to go through it to get to the door on the other side. On his left, behind the wall, was the courtyard, the exercise area, filled with prisoners and guards. Behind the wall to his right, the ghost zone. If he went human, he'd either have to walk through the courtyard or go outside again. But in the ghost zone, he couldn't move as a human. He could only float. And they'd surely see him there.

For a moment, he considered walking through the courtyard as a human. The ghosts that were prisoner there might leave him alone. The guards on the wall above, however, had a great view on the courtyard. He'd be extremely vulnerable and at a disadvantage.

Through the guards it was. It wasn't like he was going to keep his being here a secret for much longer.

Steeling himself for what he was about to do, he let his fists glow green in preparation. Then, he jumped into the room. The guards didn't know what hit them.

With one blow, he felled two guards, simultaneously kicking another away from him. He got hit with a night stick, which shocked him, but instead of crumbling to the floor like he would have ten years ago, he ignored it, whipped around and grabbed the thing from the startled guard's hands. He yanked it free and then proceeded to use it on the remaining three guards. It was over in less than a minute.

Hovering still in the middle or the room, he took a moment to catch his breath, in a matter of speaking. He wondered if people, when they died and became ghosts, still hung on to the familiar phrases. Catch one's breath. Gone in a heartbeat. He let out a short laugh. Ignoring the floating forms of the ghosts he had knocked unconscious, he flew to the door on the other side of the room and carefully opened it.

Another corridor. More windows. And in the distance, the main entrance hall. Perfect.

He closed the door behind him and let himself glide through the corridor, stopping every now and then at the small windows to his left to glance into the courtyard. He could see ghosts there, wearing striped uniforms, hanging around. Some were playing basket ball. He recognized none of them. Until he saw a fat, bubbly ghost sitting in the corner. Danny stared at him, excitement rising. Harold Daniels. If he was here, then so was the necklace. He only had to get it. And that was when his luck ran out.

* * *

"One hour," Tucker said, leaning against the control panel, "Are you really gonna shoot us if Danny doesn't make it back in the next hour, Teresa?"

"You'd better hope Danny makes it back here in that time," Teresa said, "Because I don't usually make idle threats."

"But what's the point," Tucker said, trying to sound reasonable, "If he doesn't make it back, it means he's dead. And none of us can go in there and do what he does. Are you just gonna shoot us here in the basement with that gun you're holding and leave us? Because then you still have nothing."

"At least I'll have tried," Teresa said.

She narrowed her eyes at him, as if she didn't trust him, but didn't see how he was deceiving her. Tucker's heart started hammering, willing her to stay at the other end of the basement. She stepped closer. Tucker cleared his throat.

"Why, why don't you sit down for a bit," he said hoarsely, "That gun looks heavy."

She stopped. "Why do you care," she said suspiciously, "What's it to you?"

He gulped. "I really don't want you to shoot one of us by accident, because your hand gets tired or something," he said.

She glared at him, but then stepped up to the table and slowly lowered herself on the rickety chair, resting the hand that held the gun on the table.

"Better?" she asked sweetly.

Tucker nodded. He couldn't speak. His throat just wouldn't cooperate. Sam looked at him hard, seemingly trying to figure out what he was doing. But he knew she would keep quiet. She wasn't stupid. Now, they had to wait.

* * *

He couldn't have been out for long, at least, he hoped he hadn't been. If it was more than two hours, his friends would be dead. And he'd be responsible. For being stupid. He coughed a little and felt the floor scrape against this face. Slowly, his vision returned to him. Green floor, looking like concrete. Hell, feeling like concrete. He turned his head sideways.

Boots. Black boots, white coat, all the way up. He squinted at the white prison warden, who was towering over him. He was holding something in his hands, something long. He was slapping it against his left hand slowly. Danny felt his insides churn.

"You're really tall from down here," he rasped.

That earned him a slap with the long something in the warden's hands, which turned out to be a whip. He had figured as much.

"Really stupid of you, punk, to come snooping around my prison," Walker said.

"Yeah, well, I'm in a stupid mood today," Danny said, trying to look around the office.

Lots of stuff there. Closets, overflowing. Shelves on the wall, stacked with all kinds of stuff. Danny stared in surprise at something what looked like a toaster. What ghost would steal a toaster and then bring it into the ghost zone? There were books, too, stuffed animals, and boxes. Lots and lots of boxes. Danny smiled. He wasn't the only one who the Box Ghost drove crazy.

He rolled on his back and found out his hands were cuffed in front of him.

"Oh, please," he muttered, and tried turn human to let them slide off.

Electricity soared through him, and he screamed. Immediately he stopped the attempt and the shocks stopped. He laid on his back, and waited for his vision to stop swimming.

"Do you like it, punk?" Walker asked, "It's new. I had them especially made for you. They're ghost retainers. You can't access your human side while wearing them. And guess what," Walker leaned down, bringing his face close do Danny's, "They're not coming off."

"Crap," Danny muttered.

This complicated matters. A little. He looked down at the cuffs. They looked like normal metal handcuffs, but they were glowing slightly, in the same faint green glow you could find anywhere in the ghost zone. With some difficulty, he got up, his eyes still wandering around the room. It had to be there somewhere, he was sure of it. But he didn't get the time to look any further.

Hands grabbed him and jerked him backwards, through the door.

"What, no 'judge, jury and executioner' speech?" Danny asked in disappointment.

He really was disappointed, because if he was removed from the room, he couldn't look around anymore to find the diamond. Walker smirked at him.

"You already had that one, punk. Twice. I'm not going to waste another word on it. Get him out of my sight."

The guards dragged him down, and he felt his feet slide on the floor. Before he could regain his footing, they threw him into the courtyard. He landed face first on the ground, hardly able to use his hands to break the fall. The once noisy courtyard went quiet.

He looked up, to find himself in the middle of a large group of ghosts, staring at him. This was not good. He had a reputation. Ghosts didn't like him very much. The first one to speak up confirmed this.

"Well, look who's here," a thin, snakelike ghost said. Danny vaguely remembered capturing it about a year ago. The ghost bend forward. "If it isn't the ghost boy. Phantom himself. At our mercy. Right, guys?"

Laughter. Danny closed his eyes and thought of Sam. How much time had passed? Did he still have time? If Teresa had killed her, he might as well stay here. His life would be over. A ghost kicked him in the ribs and he rolled over, curling into a ball. When down on the ground, try to protect your vitals. He looked at the cuffs again. Then he smiled.

He waited until they were touching him again, four ghosts holding him, while two of them landed their fists on him, and then he reached for his human side again. Electricity soared through him and he screamed, and so did the ghosts holding him. They blew away from him, smoking. He let go of his warm human side and crumpled to the floor, still twitching.

Some time passed, and he looked up, to see what they were doing. They were standing about ten feet away from him now, still in a circle, not daring to come any closer. They got the message, which was good, because he really didn't feel like doing that again. He searched the faces of the ghosts, until he settled on one familiar face in the back.

"Harold Daniels," he said.

The ghost stared at him, and then came forward.

"I know your wife, Teresa," Danny proceeded.

He hadn't anticipated the ghost's reaction. From a frightened, bubbling, insignificant ghost he suddenly started screaming, his red eyes flaring. Danny couldn't make out what he was screaming about, but he guessed he was less than pleased with his widowed wife.

He rolled over on his stomach, pushed himself up on his knees and watched the angry ghost with interest. When he had about enough, he took a deep gulp of air and let out a small portion of his ghostly wail.

That silenced him. It also drove the other ghosts further away from him. On the down side, it also brought down the guards with their night sticks. Danny was getting tired of this. He turned around and snarled at them. It didn't stop them, but it did slow them down. He turned back to Harold.

"Look," he said, "You're upset with your wife. I get it. Want to tell me about it?"

The guards were still standing close by, watching him. Danny slowly got to his feet, making sure not to make any sudden movements that would encourage them to start hitting him. He didn't have time for that.

"The bitch murdered me," Harold wailed, and then his small eyes narrowed and he looked almost gleeful. "But I got back at her. I found out where she hid it, and I took it. And then that girl came and put me in here!"

"Do you know where it is?" Danny asked.

The ghost grinned, and then his face turned suspicious. "Why do you want to know?" he asked, "It's mine, mine! I kept it safe all those years. It's mine to keep! You have no right to take it away from me! You bastards!"

With that, he flung himself at the guards, screaming and wailing. The guards, of course, started hitting him and everybody else who was standing nearby, which was practically everybody but Danny, who quickly stepped away from the brawl. He watched them for a moment, and then quietly walked to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" the guard at the door asked.

"Out," Danny said, and then he hit the unsuspecting ghost with an ice beam from his eyes, freezing him to the wall.

Then he directed the beam at the handcuffs to see if they would withstand the cold. They didn't. With a snap, the chain between them broke in two. They weren't gone from his wrists, but at least he could move around more easily. He didn't want to try freezing the cuffs off his wrists, for fear he'd freeze his hands in the process.

Casually, he walked out of the courtyard, into the main entrance hall. He turned left, walked leisurely up the stairs and entered Walker's office. The white ghost warden looked up in surprise from his desk.

"W-what?" he got out.

Danny didn't waste time, but froze him on the spot.

"You know," he said conversationally, "You really should be careful who you do business with. Those cuffs? Worthless. You're getting complacent, Walker."

The ghost warden could do nothing but scowl at him. Danny checked the ice around him and then started rummaging through the junk that was on the shelves. He looked in all the boxes (empty), behind the toaster, emptied a box full of 'Nasty Burger Funny Food' toys (what ghost... Oh. Youngblood), and in general made a mess of the office. He refroze Walker when he started showing signs of melting, and turned his attention to the desk.

"Hm," he said.

He had frozen Walker to his desk. No way to look into it now... bad planning on his part. He studied the desk. There was always a way around it.

* * *

Detective Sawyer put his head against the door, listening intently. Inside, he heard a vague murmur of voices. Not good. They'd hear him. He looked at his watch, and then at the door again. Time was running out. He'd have to act now, he couldn't wait for the SWAT team to turn up and find only dead hostages.

He took out his wallet and morosely looked at the contents. He took out the credit card he used the least, and pocketed the wallet again. He bend the edge some, and then stuck it between the door and the door frame, pushing until he heard a soft click. The door opened and he peered through the thin gap. Light was on in the hallway. A brightly lit square directly behind the door. A hatch, standing open.

"The basement, of course," Sawyer thought.

He pushed the door further open, praying it wouldn't crack. The murmur of voices grew louder, and he heard a man talking.

"Really, Teresa, I don't understand. Why him and not me? What has he got what I haven't? Why does he get all the action?"

"Would you just shut up for a moment!"

Sawyer smiled. He knew that voice all too well. Teresa Daniels, in person. Holding hostages. She was going down, even without the necklace. Sinking to his knees, he peered into the basement. He saw Teresa, sitting at a table, her back to him, and the feet of a man, standing, leaning against something. He took a deep breath and crawled forward, taking out his gun.

"This is stupid," he thought to himself, "I really should wait for the SWAT team."

But he knew their time was running out. It was almost time. She would shoot them. Now or never. He grabbed hold of the edges of the hole in the floor and silently jumped down.

"Police," he shouted at the startled woman, "Drop your gun!"

She stared at him. She had turned her head, but the gun was still pointing at the black man standing near some kind of machine next to a strange swirling green... something. Sawyer purposefully didn't look at it, but instead kept his eyes on the woman. The black man went down into a crouch. The woman standing to Sawyer's right did the same, trying to make herself a smaller target.

"Drop it!" Sawyer shouted again.

He really didn't want to go shooting in here, not only for fear of hitting innocent people, but also for fear of hitting the strange machine. He didn't know what it was, but he suspected it was ghost related, and it looked like it would blow up if he hit it.

Teresa dropped the gun.

"Kick it away from you," Sawyer said, and to his dismay his voice sounded hoarse with tension.

She complied, and the woman dressed all in black bend over to pick it up.

"Leave it," Sawyer said, "Fingerprints."

She nodded in comprehension. Sawyer cautiously approached Teresa Daniels, who was staring at him teary eyed. She looked small and vulnerable, but Sawyer wasn't buying it.

"On the floor. Lay down. Put your hands behind your back."

She did what he said, and he quickly cuffed her. Then he relaxed somewhat. He stood up, stepped into her view and quietly read her her rights.

"Do you understand your rights?" he asked her.

She grumbled in response. "

"I take that as a yes," Sawyer said.

"Man, am I glad to see you," The black man at the machine said, "I didn't know if it would work, if you would hear us."

"What did you do?" the woman in black asked, but she didn't wait for his answer, instead turning to Sawyer. "I'm Sam Manson, this is Tucker Foley," she said.

Sawyer nodded at them, and then answered her question.

"I got a call. Mr Foley here must have dialed my number. I could hear you talking. Took me a while to figure out where you were, though."

Manson's eyes grew wide, and Teresa grumbled something unintelligible from the floor. They all ignored her. Foley grinned, and held up a phone, which had been laying on the control panel.

"Danny's cell phone. He left it laying here. And he forgot to erase the messages on the answering machine this morning, so I had to listen to them again. I knew he called detective Sawyer, I just hoped he did it with his cell. He did, I recognized the number from the list of dialed numbers and pressed the button. That's all, really."

Manson nodded, and then looked at the ghost portal.

"Care to explain that?" Sawyer asked.

"The ghost portal," Foley said, and then his face fell. "Danny's in there."

Sawyer saw them looking at each other, and something passed between them. He didn't know what it was, but they both looked worried.

"Mr Fenton said it was impossible to retrieve the necklace," he tried.

Manson nodded, but then shook her head. "If anyone can do it, he can," she said, "I just hope..."

She didn't finish her sentence. Sawyer looked at the strange glowing green and shivered. Foley cleared his throat.

"How long...?" he asked.

"We keep it open until he comes back," Manson said.

There was a finality to her voice that cut off any objections Foley might have made. Sawyer sighed and sat down on the chair at the table, keeping a keen eye on his captive on the ground. He glanced at his watch.

"SWAT team takes its sweet time to get here," he commented, and then, "I'd better call them, tell them it's all over anyway."

As he was speaking to the commander of the SWAT team, who was thoroughly pissed off at him, he watched the ghost hunters standing at the portal, looking apprehensively at the moving green substance. Sawyer purposefully didn't look at it. It made his stomach churn.

"Another police car is coming," he informed them, "To pick her up. They'll be here within ten minutes."

They nodded vaguely at him. Manson stepped closer to Foley, and he put his arm around her shoulder to comfort her. They looked scared. The two hours were almost gone. If Fenton didn't come out now, he might never come out.

A rumble, and something burst through the portal in a cloud of dust and debris. A bright flash, and someone screaming, "Shut it! Shut the portal!"

Foley slammed his hand on the button, and the steel doors closed with a swoosh. The man – Fenton, Sawyer thought – rolled out of the way, grabbed something from a box and fired at the green apparition that had come though the portal with him.

"Sam, thermos!" he yelled.

Sawyer started coughing from the smoke, and he heard Teresa Daniels whimper on the floor. Holding his hand in front of his mouth, he tried to see what was happening. Manson had grabbed something from a shelf on the wall and was pointing it at the ghost, who was trying to hit Fenton with something that looked suspiciously like a night stick. Fenton yelped in pain, rolled away and fired at the ghost again. The shot made his whole hand glow green.

The ghost was thrown back against the doors of the ghost portal, and at that moment Manson pressed a button on a cylindrical device. A blue vortex appeared, encapsulating the ghost. With a ghostly scream, it was sucked inside, deforming as it was pressured into the small space.

A silence settled over the basement. Sawyer only heard the ragged breaths of the ghost fighters. And his own, he realized. Slowly, he willed his breathing to slow down, taking long, deep breaths.

Fenton was laying on the floor, on his back, staring at the ceiling...laughing? Manson rushed over to him and hugged him.

"Danny!" she said, "Are you alright?"

A bit awkwardly, Fenton brought his hands up and hugged her back.

"Sure," he gasped, "No... problem... walk in the... park."

"Did you get it?"

They all looked up, startled at Teresa's voice. It was then that Fenton noticed Sawyer. He raised his eyebrows at him, and then took a closer look at Teresa.

"Oh," he said, "I see you don't really need me."

He grinned viscously and held out his hand. In it, a necklace, glittering in the pale lamplight of the cellar. A dozen small diamonds, and one huge diamond in the middle.

"Harold sends his love," Fenton continued, and Sawyer was surprised at the dark undertone in the man's voice, "He said, and I quote, 'The bitch murdered me'. So maybe..." he directed his gaze at Sawyer, "An exhumation is in order. Did they do a post mortem on the guy?"

Sawyer shook his head. "Probably not. It was the circumstances in which he was found you see. The doctor had no doubt it was a heart attack, and since Mrs Daniels here only inherited debts..."

"What circumstances?" Foley asked.

"Well," Sawyer said, smirking a little, "It seems that Mrs Daniels here had a... peculiar taste. In bed. If you catch my drift."

They stared at him, and then at Teresa on the floor, who looked furious.

"I don't want to know," Manson said, and then, turning to Fenton, who was now sitting up, rubbing his wrists, "What did you do with her?"

He stopped and stared at her. "What do you mean? I didn't do anything."

"You went to visit her tonight."

"Yes." He was quiet for a moment. "I did. She tried to persuade me to go and look for the diamond, but I wouldn't. She offered it to me, offered herself to me. Nothing happened, Sam. I walked away."

"Why?"

Fenton turned to Teresa on the floor, who had asked the question. He studied her.

"You're beautiful," he admitted, "But if you take away that beauty, there's nothing left. It's only the surface, Teresa. Inside, you're rotten. I don't like you."

Teresa gasped, and Sawyer's eyes widened at the insult.

"I'll haunt you," she hissed at him, "I'll haunt you for the rest of your life1"

Fenton looked tired. "Yeah," he said, "You and everybody else. What's taking that squad car so long?"

The squad car chose that moment to arrive, and Teresa was swiftly escorted outside. Sawyer got busy, collecting the gun, instructing the policemen, and then finally told the three ghost hunters to keep themselves available, since he might have more questions for them. Then he left, knowing it was going to be a long night.

* * *

"Was that wise, to say that to her?" Sam asked Danny, "About her being rotten on the inside?"

He was sitting on the sofa in her apartment, and she was wrapping bandages around his wrists. He knew the wounds would be gone in the morning, but he let her do it anyway. It was nice, sitting here on her sofa, feeling her cool hands on his arms.

"Probably not," he admitted, "But it was true. Amazing how something so beautiful can be so... ugly."

Sam started cleaning up the first aid kit, putting everything she hadn't used inside.

"So Walker had it," she said, trying to get him to talk.

"Yup," he said, "He had it in his office. Took me forever to find it between all that junk he keeps there. I'm wondering if he's breaking his own rules... Anyway, turned out he had it in his desk. Of course, I froze him to his desk, so I had to dismantle it from the rear side. He didn't like that. Luckily, the desk contained not only the necklace, but also the keys to those stupid handcuffs he had especially made for me."

Sam pointed at his wrists. "They caused that?"

Danny nodded. "They prevented me from going human. Luckily, they couldn't withstand my ice powers. Walker got a bad deal on them. I expect Technus will be hearing from him."

Sam laughed a little, but then got serious.

"Next time, he's not going to go so easy on you anymore."

Danny got a distant look in his eyes. "There won't be a next time," he said curtly.

He leaned back against the back of the sofa, feeling warm and fuzzy and very, very tired. He had been up since seven that morning, running around town, then capturing a ghost at a house just out of town, then Teresa, then Walker's prison... Thoughts were swirling through his mind, and he hardly noticed when Sam sat down next to him. Without thinking, he raised his arm and she crawled under it, snuggling up to him.

"What time is is?" he muttered, trying to keep his eyes open, but failing miserably.

"Two in the morning," Sam said.

"Oh."

He was breathing evenly, and Sam thought he had fallen asleep. Not so.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"I don't know. I just am."

"Don't be. I'm not."

"You're not?"

"Nope."

"OK... that's good, then..."

His voice trailed off. Sam looked up at his face. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open. She smiled at him and then closed her eyes.

"Sam?"

She groaned. "Go to sleep, Danny."


End file.
